


The Battle of Beacon Hills

by Littleredridinghunter



Series: Always Getting into Trouble [3]
Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awesome Bobby, BAMF Lydia Martin, BAMF Stiles, F/M, Hurt Stiles, John Winchester Being an Asshole, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Not Really Character Death, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Scott is a Good Friend, Stiles-centric, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 10:24:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7973431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littleredridinghunter/pseuds/Littleredridinghunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's six months since Stiles was taken. But now he's back and there's something he's not telling the pack. Just Stiles getting into trouble again as per usual. But this time the pack has his back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Battle of Beacon Hills

**Author's Note:**

> So I think this is probably going to be the final part in this story for now. I might write something else at a later date but I want to leave it for now as I've got a few ideas on other stories that I want to write. Again very stiles-centric and lots of hurt stiles. I don't know why I enjoy hurting him so much, I think it's because I love watching him pull himself back together. Anyways, hope you enjoy and thanks for sticking with the story!

One Week after the Event

It took Scott a week to realise that Percy wasn’t an alpha anymore. To be fair his head was all over the place, he was barely sleeping and when he did he always woke up screaming, the image of the witch, Catherine, he reminded himself, plunging the knife into Stiles burned forever into his brain. He knew the others were holding up about as well as him, which was to say not at all. 

So it took him a week for that fact to register, and when it did, he suddenly had four more betas that he welcomed into the pack. Leo seemed to have grown quite fond of Stiles and had informed Scott that even if he hadn’t have let them into his pack, Leo would have kept searching, he wouldn’t ever stop. Scott had nodded at him with tears in his eyes, welcoming them into the pack. Four more people searching for Stiles wouldn’t be a bad thing, they’d find him in no time.

One Month after the Event

It took Scott a month before he admitted that they couldn’t do this alone, both Sam and Claire had gone through their first full moon, and surprisingly it had gone pretty well, Scott thought it was because they had a large pack to watch over them now. He thought back to his first full moon, how much he had struggled, how much Stiles had helped him to learn control. He wished with everything he had that Stiles was back here with him again. He’d do anything to make it happen.

It took him all day to get in touch with Derek, Chris and Isaac asking them to come back and help him to find Stiles. He’d hugged them all tightly, thanking them repeatedly for coming, sure that this would be the difference that they needed and that they’d find Stiles now. 

Two Months after the Event

Jackson turned up to Beacon Hills almost two months since Stiles had disappeared. He confronted Scott immediately, determined to know why the hell he hadn’t called him and let him know. 

“I didn’t think you’d care.” He said wearily, worn down from the constant failure of not been able to find Stiles. 

“Didn’t think I’d care!?” Jackson shouted incredulously, “Of course I fucking care, it’s Stiles!” He roared.

It had taken Scott a good few hours to get the full story out of Jackson, how Stiles had got in touch with him after the Nogitsune, wanted to ask him how he dealt with things after the Kanima, after he had been used to kill people. They’d talked about it a lot actually, and Jackson wanted to believe that he’d finally got through to Stiles, finally made him believe, if only for a moment, that it wasn’t his fault. 

They’d kept in touch regularly after that, it might have been weeks between contact, but they still talked as often as they could, Stiles kept him up to date on what had been happening in Beacon Hills, and Jackson told him all about his life in London, how much he missed everyone, how he was thinking of coming home. Of course they still grated on each other’s nerves occasionally, Jackson calling Stiles a spaz on one particularly stressful skype session that had ended with Stiles looking hurt and Jackson feeling like a jackass. They hadn’t spoken for two months because Jackson hadn’t wanted to swallow his pride, but eventually Stiles had called him back and acted like nothing had happened, when Jackson tried to apologize Stiles had just brushed him off, so maybe they weren’t best friends, or hell, maybe even really proper friends, but there was definitely a fondness for Stiles that he hadn’t had before. So when he hadn’t heard from Stiles in nearly three months, he’d then tried to get hold of him repeatedly, only to find out he was missing.

“The goddamn internet Scott, I had to find out over the internet that Stiles was missing!” Yes, Jackson was not happy with him at all, but once he’d calmed down, Jackson had explained that he wasn’t going anywhere, and wouldn’t be until they found Stiles. Scott had cried at that, wishing that Stiles could see how much he meant to all these people. How he pulled them all together. Jackson had told him that he wouldn’t ever admit to it, but he’d give Scott a hug if it made him feel better. Scott wouldn’t ever tell anyone that Jackson clung to him just as much.

Three Months after the Event

John Winchester finally turned up in Beacon Hills. Apparently he wasn’t overly impressed about the growing werewolf pack that he’d heard about. He was really not impressed that it appeared to include both his sons.

“You know it’s your job to kill the monsters, not team up with them!” He raged at Sam and Dean, pointing at the crowd of people gathering on the Sheriffs porch. 

Sam glanced back at the porch, and yes it was a growing crowd, Chris Argent, Isaac, Derek, Percy, Frank, Jason, Leo, Jackson, Miller, Lydia, Malia, Liam, Mason, John Stilinski, Melissa and Scott, not to mention Dean stood at his side, a half step in front of him, taking on a protective stance. Sam couldn’t help but feel love for his brother, it had always been Dean’s job to protect Sam, but he’d never protected him from their father before.

The Sheriff and Scott both came down from the porch, and whereas Scott was looking as calm as possible, the Sheriff was glaring at John with hatred in his eyes. 

“You stay out of this Stilinski. It’s none of your business.” John growled, which resulted in Sam growling low in his throat, he hadn’t meant to, but he didn’t have perfect control just yet, and the Sheriff had given them a home for the past three months, not to mention had lost his son, of course Sam was going to be a bit protective of him.

Of course his dad heard him growl and glared at him.

“What the hell is this? Sam are you one of them!?” He shouted, pulling out his gun, and yes it was filled with wolfsbane bullets because Sam could already smell them. He was shocked into silence, his dad thought he was a monster, his dad was willing to shoot him. 

“Where the hell were you Dean!? You were supposed to protect him, not let him get turned into a monster.” Dean glanced down at the ground beside Sam, the smell of guilt almost overwhelming.

“This wasn’t Dean’s fault.” Sam snarled, “Where the hell were you dad? We needed your help and you were off hunting some ghoul somewhere. Dean saved my life.”

“He turned you into a monster.”

“He’s not a monster.” Dean said, speaking for the first time since their dad had first started shouting. “Sam is not a monster. None of them are.” He said gesturing to the crowd behind them. “They are a family.” 

“No, son. We are a family. Me and you. Let’s just get the hell out of this godforsaken town.” 

“Me and you?” Dean asked surprised, “Shouldn’t it be me, you and Sammy, the way it’s always been?” 

“Sam’s not Sam anymore Dean. He’s been taken over by a monster. I’m sorry but Sam is dead.” 

It was Dean’s turn to growl, “He’s still Sam. He’s still my brother.” Sam stood in silence, unable to believe that his father could speak that way about him when he was stood right here. 

John still hadn’t lowered his gun and the atmosphere was still pretty tense. It didn’t help that Malia was still struggling to control her change, she hadn’t been able to properly control it since Stiles had disappeared and when she got the least bit angry she would barely be able to hold it together. So of course when she saw a gun pointed at her pack mate she got slightly angry and her eyes flashed blue, drawing John Winchesters attention. Derek kept a firm hand on her shoulder, trying to ground her as best as possible and she was so glad he was back, otherwise she was sure she’d be off in the forest somewhere, running free as a coyote, with no intention of returning, until they got Stiles back, Derek was the only thing keeping her even remotely human. 

“They’re monsters.” John said firmly after looking at Malia. “I’m sorry Sam.” He said finally before levelling the gun at his chest and pulling the trigger.

Dean took that extra half step, protecting Sam as he always tried to do and the bullet hit him square in the chest, knocking both of them backwards. Stilinski and Scott rushed forward disarming John as he looked on in shock at his sons on the floor.

Dean had landed half on top of Sam, who was now cradling him gently on the floor.

“Hey Dean, it’s okay.” Sam said reassuringly, placing his hand over the wound in his chest, hating the fact that the blood was pouring through his fingers. Melissa was there the next moment, getting him to move his hand so she could assess the damage, shouting orders that Sam couldn’t process because his brother was bleeding out on the floor below him.

“Sammy.” Dean said quietly, finally getting Sam to concentrate, bringing him back to the situation at hand. “It’s okay. Don’t panic. I’m okay.” 

Tears were running down Sam’s cheeks now. This wasn’t okay, this was so far from okay, they’d finally started to feel at home, feel like they belonged, and now Dean was been taken away from him. He wouldn’t survive it. Dean was his anchor, the only thing that kept him from losing control. If he lost Dean, god, he couldn’t think about it, couldn’t believe it. There had to be a way to save him.

“Scott, please.” Sam heard himself say when Melissa shook her head slightly, evidently unable to believe that this was happening, that a father would shoot his own son.

Scott was there the next moment, hearing the distress in his beta’s voice. 

“What can I do?” Scott said, already knowing what Sam wanted. Dean had been quite insistent that he didn’t want the bite, they needed human members of the pack to do the human stuff that the wolves couldn’t. Could he really go against Dean’s wishes now? 

“Mom? Will he live otherwise?” Scott said, glancing at his mom’s tear filled eyes, they already gave him the answer. Dean was quickly losing conscious, Sam was covered in blood and John Winchester was pinned to the ground, panting as he watched his son dying in front of his eyes, and at his hand.

“I’m sorry Dean.” Scott said, biting quickly into Dean’s wrist, praying that it would be enough.

Four Months after the Event

Dean had adjusted quickly to becoming a werewolf, probably more than any of the others, his natural protective instinct stronger than anybody else’s made him perfect as pack protector. Dean and Derek got on incredibly well, Scott wanted to believe that, although he was never very sure, generally their conversations consisted of varying degrees of grunts, and listening to music from before Scott was born. But Derek smiled occasionally which was new so it must have been something good for him. 

It was on one of their trips out into the forest looking for any sign of Stiles, (although Scott didn’t want to believe it was a lost cause it felt more like it each day that there was no sign of him) that they came across the old Hale house. After Derek had explained the whole story to Dean they’d got back to the Sheriff’s, which had somehow become the pack house, smelling of grief and guilt and tears nobody had mentioned it. 

It was a few days later when Dean suggested that perhaps they rebuild it, that they couldn’t all keep piling into the Sheriff’s house, that when Stiles returned home he would probably want his room back. They’d all smiled at the optimism, and at the idea of Stiles’ face when he discovered that his room had basically devolved into a place for puppy piles every night. 

Derek had agreed, seemingly happy to agree with Dean’s ideas because it was Dean. Scott wasn’t even going to mention how much Derek had seemed to calm down, he very rarely threatened people anymore, and his eyebrows were definitely less serial killer as Stiles would say. They’d started to draw plans up, trying to figure out just how much space they would need to accommodate the growing pack, Dean made sure that a room was included for Stiles because yes they would be bringing him home.

“We’re not having a bloody mansion Lydia!” Derek said when Lydia had insisted that they all have their own rooms.

“It wouldn’t have to be a mansion Derek. It just seems to me that some people are going to want their own space. And if you are wanting to make it a pack house, then you have to accommodate for the pack.” Lydia replied confidently, she’d finally stopped crying all day somewhere around the six week mark, now she just screamed herself awake at night, the loss cutting into her. Scott completely understood why she would want her own room, he sure as hell wanted his own room too. 

“It would have to be like, twenty bloody bedrooms.” Dean said astonished, him and Sam had always shared a motel room and that had worked fine. 

“Probably bigger if Scott has any intention of growing the pack.” Sam said calmly from the couch.

Scott had looked to him in astonishment, of course he didn’t, he wasn’t even sure how it had got this big. The thing was, it wouldn’t ever be whole, no matter how big he made it. It wouldn’t be whole until Stiles was back. He was about to say as much when Derek sighed heavily, as if reading Scott’s thoughts. 

“Fine. We’ll build a bloody mansion, but if it gets any bigger then you’re sharing rooms.” He said ending the conversation.

Six Months after the Event

Jackson

Jackson cursed quietly as he ran through the preserve. His car had broken down at the side of the road about ten miles back and he was running the rest of the way to the Sheriff’s house. Yes they were rebuilding the Hale house, but it wasn’t anywhere near finished yet, and he’d got a job at a law firm in the next town over, hating the fact that he was finally home, finally putting down roots and it was all without Stiles. 

He was running late for the pack night and it was actually an important night tonight. Sam and Dean had eventually got in touch with an old friend of their dad’s, they’d debated it for ages, because they were sure he knew that they were werewolves and would probably try to shoot them too. Understandably they’d been quite hesitant about getting him involved, but he happened to know a lot about witches, so eventually they’d made contact. 

After filling him in on all the details of the past six months the guy had agreed to see them and he was coming tonight to meet the pack and Scott had insisted that they all be there early, and now, now he was running bloody late because his car had decided to fall apart, his brand new Porsche, which made absolutely no sense whatsoever. So he was a little bit distracted when he was running through the preserve, but not distracted enough to hear the sound of footfalls running parallel to him through the woods.

He slowed down, curious as to who else was running late, and the footsteps slowed down too. Suddenly he felt nervous, he wasn’t sure why, he was the scariest thing in this forest right now, but still, he was on edge. Something smelt wrong, something unnerved him. He straightened up, knowing that he was only a mile or so from the Sheriff’s house and he could probably just howl for help, but then everybody would come running and he’d look like a right idiot. 

“Who’s there?” He called out confidently, pulling out his phone, starting to dial Scott. 

A woman stepped into the clearing, she was tall, pale and thin, like scarily skinny, almost as if she hadn’t eaten in years, and her eyes were glowing, a brilliant vivid red. She was obviously supernatural and Jackson felt completely out of his depth. He took a step backwards and suddenly she was right in front of him. He whimpered in fear, all thought of running away lost from his mind. 

He couldn’t run, couldn’t move, he was paralyzed, unable to look away from her, unable to defend himself. She grinned viciously at him, showing off a wicked set of second teeth that descended from her gums before plunging them into his neck. He tried to move away but couldn’t, couldn’t even call for help. He heard the rustling of leaves, knew someone was running through the forest towards him, but before he could think that they would be too late everything faded to black.

Scott

Scott paced the house nervously, he had been worried about the whole pack being here, worried that Bobby would be overwhelmed, or wouldn’t have the information they need and then the whole pack would have to face the disappointment. Scott was beginning to run out of ideas, it wouldn’t be so bad if they had any idea where Stiles might be, but it was like he had vanished off the face of the planet, yes he knew he was stupid to hope that she’d kept Stiles around Beacon Hills, but the idea that he could be anywhere in the whole world was driving him slowly insane. He really hoped this Bobby character would be able to help them.

Everyone was here apart from Jackson and Frank. Frank had called earlier to say he wouldn’t be able to get out of work and he was very sorry but he was going to have to miss the meeting. It had annoyed Scott but he at least understood, but Jackson, well, he was supposed to be here and Scott was a little irritated, he’d told them all to be here early, Bobby’s only condition to make sure that they weren’t hiding anyone else from him. And Jackson was late when he knew had goddamn important it was.

The doorbell rung and the whole pack turned to look at it, Dean was the first to head towards it, glancing reassuringly at the pack. Bobby Singer stood in the doorway, he looked like he’d pretty much driven the whole way without sleep, his clothes looked old and worn, his eyes calculating as he took in the pack, his baseball cap firmly in place over his greying hair. Before anything could be said Bobby pulled Dean into a tight hug. 

“I’ve missed you boy.” 

Dean stepped back, a smile lighting up his features.

“Missed you too Bobby.” Bobby took a step into the room before spotting Sam, which, really he was very hard to miss. He grabbed hold of the younger boy and pulled him into a tight hug too. Tears were spilling from his eyes now. 

“Hey Bobby, it’s okay.” Sam said calmly holding onto him.

“It’s damn well not okay you idjits. Your dad is a son of a bitch, but I’d never thought he would have done that.” He said gesturing to where Dean stood.

“It’s fine Bobby. We’re both okay.” Sam said trying to reassure the older man who had been a second father to them.

They chatted for a moment or two before Bobby turned to the rest of the room.

“So which one of you is the Alpha?” He addressed the room at large. Scott stepped forward, holding out his hand to the older hunter.

“Mr Singer. I’m Scott McCall. Alpha of the Beacon Hills Pack.” Bobby shook his hand and Scott felt relief that the man had accepted them so willingly. 

“Right, well, I ain’t got all night so let’s get down to business.” Bobby said bluntly, gathering their attention.

“Mr Singer, sorry, I need to tell you one of my pack is running late, I’m sure he will be here soon though. And I’ve another who was unable to make it due to work commitments.” Scott said, wanting to be as upfront with the man as possible.

“Alright then.” Bobby said after a moment’s thought, “And enough with the Mr Singer. It’s Bobby.” He made eye contact with the Sheriff, “And I’m here to help you get your friend back.” Scott felt a rush of joy run through him, the way the man spoke, with such confidence, Scott knew that they would find Stiles and soon.

Before Bobby could say another word however Scott’s phone started to ring. He glanced at the screen and saw Jackson’s name come up. 

“I’m so sorry. I’ve got to take this.” He said to Bobby, answering the call, “Jackson where the hell are you?” He demanded as soon as the call started. There was no reply, just silence on the other end, which immediately concerned him, even if Jackson called him accidently he would have heard Scott down the phone, it was one of the plus sides of werewolf hearing. He heard a small whimper, a sound he had never heard from Jackson before, and then he was dropping the phone and running for the door, Derek, Dean and Percy directly behind him, the rest of the pack spilling out into the back garden.

Scott headed towards the preserve, knowing that Jackson would have been coming along the road that ran alongside the forest. He didn’t expect to pick up his scent almost instantly as if he was just beyond the perimeter of the garden. 

He stopped at the edge of the garden, caught off guard, not quite sure what was happening, he could hear the rustle of the leaves as they were trampled underfoot. There was somebody coming towards the house, carrying something heavy from the sounds of things, he could smell Jackson, but there was somebody else with him, he must have been carrying somebody else, that would explain the smell of ozone that was invading his senses along with the scent of blood. 

A moment later two people stumbled into the garden, but Scott couldn’t process what he was seeing, because Jackson was unconscious, his form leaning against the other person, blood spilling down his neck, but that wasn’t what Scott couldn’t believe. What he was staring at, and what he was sure the rest of the pack were looking at too, was the fact that he was being held up by Stiles.

John

John stood on the garden, a few steps behind Scott and the main defenders, his hand resting on his gun, knowing from the way Scott was stood that they could well be under attack. What he hadn’t expected was for Jackson to appear a moment later and for Stiles to be the one keeping him upright. 

“Erm, a little help here?” Stiles said, obviously the strain of trying to keep the werewolf moving was taking its toll on him. Suddenly everyone was rushing forward to help him, pulling Jackson gently away from Stiles, lowering him to the floor, checking his pulse, he was still breathing thank god. But John only had eyes for Stiles, his son was stood there watching the scene unfold. He was wearing jeans and a long black t-shirt, they were old and dirty and torn in places as if Stiles had been wearing them for weeks, he looked different and it took John a second to realise that Stiles had never stood still, and yet here he was, standing silently, his eyes were harder too, more guarded, but they were still the same eyes that had looked up at him with such love as a child.

John too a step forwards towards Stiles who took a step backwards his stance defensive. 

“Stiles.” John said quietly, he wanted to say more, but his voice broke and tears were spilling down his cheeks. His voice seemed to break the trance everyone else was in and suddenly they were all turning to Stiles, all gazing at him, refusing to blink for fear he’d disappear. 

Stiles was too still for a moment, eyeing them all warily; his body tense as if ready for a fight. 

“Stiles.” John said again, taking a stumbling step forward and practically falling into Stiles’ arms. He was crying, he couldn’t stop it, his son was here; he was alive. Stiles patted his back, and John could tell Stiles was uncomfortable, that he didn’t want to be hugging him, and of course John understood, the last words he spoke to his son were ones twisted with hate. 

“I’m sorry. God Stiles I’m so sorry.” He said sobbing into Stiles’ shoulder, when did his son get to be so much taller than him? And broader? God, he was home, his kid was home. 

Stiles patted his back softly, muttering words of reassurance to him and John felt like the biggest jackass in the history of the world, his son had been kidnapped and then tortured, and then kidnapped again right under there noses, and god knows what had been happening to him in the six months since then, and yet here he was, been comforted by the very same son. But even knowing this he couldn’t stop the tears, couldn’t bear to let go of his son for fear he would disappear again. 

It was some time before he calmed down enough to recognize that he had fallen to the floor, wet knees from the damp grass, still clinging to Stiles like a toddler, Stiles still patting him gently on the back and reassuring him that everything was fine. 

Jackson was still lay on the ground in front of them, seemingly forgotten with the revelation of Stiles, the wound in his neck starting to heal, but John was just looking at Stiles with disbelief in his eyes. He would never let him out of his sight again. 

“So, Bobby works some serious magic skills then?” Leo joked, trying to break the tense atmosphere in the garden, glancing around at the rest of the pack, who all wore varying states of disbelief on their faces, “I mean he says, ‘yes I’ll help you find him.’ Poof! He’s here. That’s got to be serious magic.” John noticed how Stiles looked to Leo before locking eyes with Bobby.

“You’re a witch?” Stiles said quietly, his voice calm, John thought for a moment how his son sounded dangerous.

“No.” Bobby said immediately, “But I know a little bit about them. I know a little bit about a lot of things, just enough to make me dangerous.” He said grimly, as if cautioning Stiles that he was a dangerous man. Dean just snorted next to him before approaching Stiles and John. 

“You okay Stiles?” He said carefully.

“I’m fine.” Stiles said dismissively, rising to his feet and pulling his dad up with him.

“Where have you been man?” Scott said suddenly, “We’ve been looking for you everywhere.” John felt the muscles tense up under his touch before his son seemed to force himself to relax.

“Oh, well, you know, witch, kidnapping, more caves, eventual escape, home. Pretty boring actually.” Stiles said quickly, “But then as soon as I get back I find this guy practically dead in the woods which means that I’m definitely back in Beacon Hills.” He grinned, poking Jackson with his foot and getting a groan in return.

John didn’t miss the way that his son had shrugged himself out of his grip, had taken a step away, distancing himself physically from all of them.

Derek

He listened to Stiles’ story, surprised when he didn’t hear any lie in his words, but something was different about the kid, he wasn’t the same boy that Derek remembered, he looked exhausted, his emotions more hidden than they used to be, no flailing movements, no overexcited energy, he looked battle worn. Yet he seemed to be in one piece physically, admittedly the long t-shirt and jeans hid any scars, but he didn’t smell of blood or pain and that was at least one reassurance.

“So how did you find him?” Derek asked and locked eyes with Stiles. 

“Huh?” Stiles said, as if not processing the question, his mind racing with a million other things, and just for a moment, there was the Stiles he remembered.

“How did you find him Stiles?” Derek repeated slowly, as if talking to an idiot, the way he always used to talk to him.

“Oh, well, you know, wandering through the woods, and then boom, tripped right over him, probably need to pay more attention to my surroundings, but you know, these things happen. I had tried using my dog whistle, but obviously it didn’t work.” Stiles replied sarcastically.

“And you didn’t think to just call one of us?” Derek demanded, hating the way that Stiles was acting so casual, as if he wasn’t effected at all by their presence, he knew for a fact he used to make the kid nervous. There was something wrong with the calm demeanour the kid was putting up, he knew there would be a well of emotion in there; it just seemed to be blocked up. He knew how much he had broken down after his torture, how many nightmares he had had, hell, how many nightmares he still had about it. The idea that Stiles was fine was just idiotic. He knew that.

“Oddly enough Der, I didn’t have a phone on me.” Stiles said, a smile on his lips.

“Where did you come from?” Percy said, seemingly genuinely curious.

“You know I’m not entirely sure. Geography never was my strong point.” Stiles replied, amusement in his voice, but there was no warmth behind it, nothing that made Stiles, well, Stiles.

“You’re been evasive.” Derek demanded.

“Weird. I thought I’d been pretty honest.” Stiles said, raising an eyebrow at him. Derek suddenly remembered why he found the kid so annoying. “Anyways, don’t we have bigger things to think about than the return of the prodigal son. Jackson here got attacked.” 

At that choice of words Jackson decided to open his eyes, looking up from the ground groggily, seeming to not notice that Stiles was one of the people stood around him.

 

Jackson

“What the hell happened?” Jackson said carefully, not liking how the words echoed in his head, sitting up slowly to stop the world from spinning.

“That’s what we want to know.” Scott said quietly, sounding unnerved for some reason.

Jackson took a moment to gather his thoughts, suddenly remembering the woman in the woods.

“There was a woman, I think she attacked me.” He started.

Suddenly there was a small laugh from someone next to him, “Dude, the wolf got taken down by a woman.”

“Shut it Stilinski.” Jackson growled automatically, before seeming to register what he had just said. He turned around, his eyes wide as saucers as he locked eyes with Stiles.

“Stiles!” He said breathlessly, practically throwing himself at the boy, jumping up from the ground and nearly knocking Stiles over as he hugged him tightly. “You’re back.” Jackson said pulling back to look at Stiles, as if trying to get his eyes and his brain to agree. “You’re home.” He said quietly, pulling Stiles back into a hug, and no, he wouldn’t ever admit that he was crying, if anyone asked he merely had allergies.

Bobby

Bobby didn’t like this, he wasn’t sure how, but somehow this Stiles kid was back. He wanted to believe it was really him, for Sam and Dean’s sake, but he’d learnt the hard way that things never really ended happy. 

“If you don’t mind Stiles. I’ll like to just do a quick few checks, you know, make sure you are who you say you are.” Bobby said, ignoring the incredulous looks he was receiving from the pack.

“Don’t be stupid. Of course it’s Stiles. I mean look at him.” One of the girls said, Malia he thinks her name is. 

“I’ve seen a lot of things that can make themselves look like anything. I just want to make sure that you really do have your Stiles back.” He said slowly, trying to evaluate the mood, he really didn’t want to end up as werewolf chow. 

“Sure.” Stiles said surprising him. “What do you need me to do?”

Bobby nodded to him in appreciation before looking to the rest of the pack. 

“Perhaps you’d like some privacy?” Bobby said, thinking that if he had to kill this thing wearing the kids face, he’d rather not do it in front of everyone. 

“Sure.” Stiles said again. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” The sheriff said quickly, standing near to his son, but not touching him.

“Me neither.” Scott said, eyeing Bobby dangerously.

“I’m staying right here.” Dean said, knowing what Bobby was thinking. Bobby hoped that there was enough of a hunter left that he would help kill the kid if it wasn’t Stiles, if he reacted to any of the tests. Dean nodded as if reading his mind.

“All right. But everyone else should go inside. Relax. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Everyone else shuffled inside, glancing back at the few people left outside, glaring at him and then turning to look at Stiles. Bobby noticed the last to leave the garden was a beautiful, young, strawberry blonde girl, who spent more time looking at Stiles than at him, as if she would never be able to drag her eyes away. Bobby let out a little huff of laughter. Young love.

“Alright then. Let’s do this.” Stiles said, shaking his limbs to try and ease some tension from them. Bobby nodded, trying to look at him with a hunter’s eye. He took a step forward, pulling out his flask of holy water.

“Drink.” He said firmly, Stiles did as he was told and Bobby let out a little sigh of relief. “Okay so you’re not a demon.” Stiles let out a quiet laugh.

“Guess not. What’s next?” Stiles said, eyeing up the salt and silver blade that Bobby had pulled out. 

“Don’t worry kid, I’m not about to stab you, just a little blood will be fine.” Bobby said in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

Half an hour later all the tests were done and Bobby felt himself relax for the first time all night. 

“So it’s definitely Stiles?” Scott asked and Bobby couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“Yeah.” Bobby said evenly, breaking into a grin when Scott threw himself at Stiles, pulling him into a long hug. 

“We should go inside.” The Sheriff said eventually and Bobby nodded.

“I just want a private word with young Stiles here if that’s okay?” Bobby asked, looking to Stiles who nodded in agreement, still eyeing Bobby warily. Once the others had disappeared into the house and Bobby hoped he was out of earshot he asked quietly.

“The witching realm?” Stiles just nodded solemnly in response, his mouth a hard line. “Shit kid. I’m sorry.” Bobby said, his stomach sinking. 

“It happens.” Stiles said quietly seeming to know that Bobby understood the extent of those few words. 

“Come on, let’s go inside.” Bobby said heading towards the steps, Stiles a step behind him.

Stiles

He hadn’t expected the whole pack to be there. When he’d dragged Jackson off the ground and headed towards his father’s house, which he knew was only a few minutes away, he hadn’t expected them all to be there. Waiting for him.

He’d done his best to keep his heart rate stable, knowing that they would all be able to hear it otherwise, know that he was going out of his mind with panic right now. Because he’d never expected to see them. His plan had been to dump Jackson on his dad’s doorstep and then get the hell out of there. He couldn’t deal with seeing it, sure Catherine had shown him how well the pack was doing without him while they’d been in those first caves, he didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to actually have to face them, to actually have to hear the words that he was out of the pack, that he didn’t have a home anymore. 

He’d wanted to run but it was too late for that, he knew he wouldn’t be able to. So he’d done the only thing he could and faced them head on, waiting for the words that would finish the job of breaking his heart. He had braced himself for the impact of their words, except suddenly his dad was hugging him, repeating over and over how sorry he was and crying all over Stiles. Stiles understood the guilt his dad must have been feeling. After all, his dad wasn’t heartless, of course he would have felt guilt over watching somebody get stabbed right in front of him; it didn’t matter if it was a stranger, or Stiles, or one of the pack, his dad would always feel guilty about it. So he’d told his dad that it was okay, that he was okay, just to ease some of his guilt.

He’d been waiting for the next blow, waiting for Scott to tell him he was still out of the pack, but he hadn’t said that, that was probably because of guilt too. Then Derek was quizzing him and of course he felt a bit defensive, he’d been through hell and here they were asking him where he’d been and what had been going on and maybe he didn’t want to dissolve into tears in front of them. Not when they’d just send him away afterwards. He didn’t want to open up, he didn’t want to get hurt. Then of course Jackson was hugging him, and then Bobby wanted to test him, and yeah he’d been a bit hurt by that, but he understood where the guy was coming from, probably trying to protect himself and the pack, after all Stiles knew a lot about people pretending to be someone else. 

Then Scott was hugging him, holding him tightly, like he hadn’t thrown Stiles to the wolves, or witches in this case. Of course Scott felt guilty about that too, it was probably the only reason they were keeping him around. The guilt. So when Bobby had asked him about the witching realm with genuine concern in his voice it had caught him off guard and he’d nodded before he could stop himself. The muttered curse and apology weren’t much, but it made him think that maybe Bobby knew a bit more than he let on, and maybe, maybe he’d know just some of the crap that he went through.

Stiles had followed him up the steps to the house, he didn’t want to think of it as home, wouldn’t think of it as home, because it couldn’t be. If he let them in, even the slightest bit, then they’d waste no time in destroying him he was sure, as soon as they stopped feeling guilty, they’d find him annoying again and then they’d kick him out, destroy him once and for all. He knew how to protect himself now, he wasn’t the same person he was when he’d left, but he might be able to protect himself physically, he wouldn’t be able to stop the emotional hurt from them, because despite everything he told himself, his heart couldn’t deny that he still cared for these people, would always care for them. 

They were all sat expectantly in the living room, as if waiting for him to launch into the story of where he had been and what had happened and he really couldn’t face it right now. 

“So what are you going to do about this woman who attacked Jackson?” He asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from him. 

“She was a vampire, I think anyway, although she had like a second set of teeth, not like a normal vampire with just the set of fangs.” Jackson supplied whereas Sam, Bobby and Dean all just nodded wearily.

“Yeah, that’s definitely a vampire. Did you notice anything else?” Dean asked cautiously

“Well, she had red eyes, and she was skinny, like really skinny, like she hadn’t had a good meal in a long time.” Jackson said quietly. Stiles noticed how Jackson, and the rest of the room, kept shooting glances at him, as if he would disappear if they looked away for more than a couple of seconds. 

“And she fed off you?” Bobby asked, his voice one of disgust. Jackson nodded, he figured that was pretty obvious. “Hmm, never heard of a vamp going after wolf blood.” Bobby said more to himself than anyone else. “Never heard of one with red eyes before either.”

“Why aren’t you dead?” Sam asked, to which Jackson just shrugged, “Vamps don’t leave victims alive, they physically can’t, once their teeth sink in they can’t stop until the victims dead, it’s why they are at their most vulnerable when they’re feeding.” Jackson just shrugged again.

“I don’t know. I mean I remember calling Scott and then she was on me, and everything went black and I woke up in the garden.” Jackson said, his gaze coming up to look at Stiles again.

“Don’t look at me.” Stiles said, flailing his arms, “I tripped over him.” He knew the wolves would be listening to his heart beat, he prayed that it stayed steady. After a moments silence Scott nodded and the conversation continued. Stiles let out a tiny sigh of relief, glad that it was only Derek that looked at him suspiciously, and really, Derek had never really liked Stiles so it kind of explained why he was looking at him with such confusion, he was probably trying to figure out how much of a threat Stiles was to the pack, after a moment he turned back to the matter at hand and Stiles knew that Derek thought he was no threat whatsoever.

He was exhausted and the warm room and the hum of voices was making it very hard to keep his eyes open, but he knew from experience what would happen when he closed his eyes so he fought to keep himself awake. Almost an hour later the conversation had dwindled down, more and more glances were directed his way and he was finding it harder and harder to keep his eyes open. Admittedly he had an excuse to be so tired, he’d had to fight for his life, more so than usual, then had to run for his life for at least the past few days, and then he’d got shoved through a portal and ended up back in the woods, and he couldn’t even say when the last time he had slept was. He was allowed to be tired, but he couldn’t tell them that, they couldn’t be trusted, they only wanted him around to ease their guilt. He knew that. He cleared his throat and every eye in the room turned to him. 

“I’m really tired…” He’d been about to continue that he should get going but his dad cut him off.

“Of course Stiles. You head up to bed. I’ll make sure everyone stays quiet.” 

“Oh. Erm. Right. Okay then.” He said, confusion sweeping across his face, why were they letting him stay here? It didn’t make any sense. 

“Sorry boys, but you’ll have to stay down here tonight.” He heard his dad say as he started up the stairs, “Don’t give me that look, you’ll be able to stay in the new house soon enough.” 

Stiles trudged up the stairs, his heart sinking with every step. So his dad had replaced him easily enough, let other people have his room, and then there was the new house. Obviously they had no intention of him staying with them. This was a cruel prank, they were going to trick him into breaking down his walls and then they would throw him away. He wondered momentarily if this was one of Catherine’s tricks. She always was very good at manipulating him, this would probably be the thing that broke him, to see them all again, only to find out it was a trick.

Lydia

Lydia waited until Stiles had disappeared to broach the subject. She’d wanted to run to him the moment she saw him, wanted to wrap him up in a hug and hold him and tell him how much she loved him, but he’d been so defensive. He wasn’t the same boy she’d known six months ago, he’d changed. Which she knew was perfectly understandable, god only knows what he’d been through. But no matter what happened in the past he’d always been able to speak to them. But he wasn’t now. It made her heart hurt.

“Are we going to talk about Stiles?” Lydia asked the room at large. She was met with silence. “He’s not okay.” 

“Of course he’s not okay.” Leo said surprising Lydia, she hadn’t thought anyone else would agree with her, but the nodding of heads around the room proved she’d been mistaken.

“You don’t know what it was like down there Lydia, you weren’t there. The things that she did to him…” Dean shuddered, “And that’s just what we know. We don’t know what’s been happening the past six months. We don’t know what he’s had to deal with. He’ll talk to us when he’s ready. Don’t force it.” 

Lydia sat silently, of course she wasn’t going to push it, but wasn’t it always better to talk about things? She was about to say as much when Scott shook his head. 

“Stiles is good at not dealing with things until they become a real issue. If we just wait for him to talk about it then he could end up not dealing with it at all, or it becoming a major issue, which none of us want. I think it would be better to talk to him about it.” Scott said reasonably.

There were a few murmurs of agreement before John spoke up.

“Alright, I agree that we talk to him about it, but not yet, just give him a little bit of time, let him get used to the fact that he’s back first. Then we can talk. And I’ll be the one to talk to him okay? He’s my son. I’ll deal with it.” He said finally, effectively ending the conversation.

Lydia nodded, understanding his reasoning and trying to hold herself together for a little bit longer, just until she got home. Usually she’d go up and sleep in Stiles’ room, along with anyone else who was missing him, try and soak up anything that still held his scent, curl up on his bed and pretend that he was holding onto her, but now he was up there and she couldn’t even pretend that it would be okay to go up there and see him now.

Malia

The next week passed quickly, they all went across to the Sheriffs house in the mornings, those of them who hadn’t stayed the night before. She tried to stay as close to Stiles as possible, he settled the animal inside her like nothing else had or ever would. She was sure that he’d realized it as well and occasionally, as in twice so far in the entire week, he’d given her a small smile, nothing like the one he used to share with her, more like a twitch of his lips before he’d suddenly become sombre and distant again. 

It was driving Malia insane. She sat next to him every morning at breakfast and it settled her, but by the middle of the night she needed to see Stiles again, needed to know he was okay, that he was still here, that the Stiles she had known before was still in there somewhere, not this shell, that was cold and distant and laughed humourlessly, darkly. 

She’d spend the rest of the night tossing and turning and she’d get to the Sheriff’s house as soon as it was deemed an appropriate time just so that she could see Stiles again and she could breathe easily again. Then each day she’d go to the new house, work until she was dead on her feet and then go home and collapse into bed in the hopes of sleeping through the night. 

The house was coming along nicely now, another week or two and they would all be able to move it, to settle into their home. She went to the room that was going to be Stiles’, she’d been the one to pick it for him, she knew he’d love the bay window that looked out over the forest, the large walk in wardrobe that she’d filled with plaid shirts. It had been a long running joke between them once upon a time, she wasn’t so sure about it now though, Stiles hadn’t touched plaid since his return, in fact he stuck to jeans, a long sleeve t-shirt and occasionally a hoodie. She missed him.

Bobby had stuck around, Derek had even offered him a room to stay at the loft until he wanted to return home. Bobby had accepted gratefully, saying it was necessary for him to stay until they’d taken care of the vamp which had somehow alluded them so far. Jackson had said she was fast, but there was no way she could outmanoeuvre all of them right?

She had been awake since four this morning, tossing restlessly, her heart telling her she had to go and check on Stiles, her brain trying to tell her that he was fine and that he’d be asleep. In the end though her heart won out and she decided she’d go and check on him, she didn’t need to wake him up, just slip quietly into his room and check he was still there and then she’d go again. She padded across the floor, threw on some clothes and then was out the door. 

The sun was just starting to rise when she got to their house, she knew how to get to Stiles’ room, she’d done it so many times before, so she climbed the tree gracefully and then leaped onto the roof, she slid down to his window and opened it easily, her feet landing lightly on the carpet. She looked across at Stiles, he was asleep in his bed, the covers kicked out of the way, he was wearing another long sleeve shirt and a pair of cotton bottoms, his hair plastered to his head as he tossed in his nightmare.

She hadn’t known he was having nightmares, no-one had mentioned it, but the way he was tossing and turning right now, the little whimpers of pain he was letting out, how could nobody know about this? How could they be letting him sleep through this? How come the wolves, she knew there was at least one downstairs, didn’t hear this? 

“Stiles.” She whispered gently approaching the bed, she wanted to keep her voice low just in case anybody was actually sleeping through this, although she didn’t know how they could, it was heart breaking to witness. When he didn’t wake she tried again, inching closer to the bed. “Stiles.” She whispered again. She reached out, touched his arm gently. His eyes shot open and then suddenly she was flying backwards, hitting her head against the wall as she landed. 

“What the hell!?” She shouted, not caring now if she woke anyone else up, because Stiles had just shoved her across the room without even touching her.

She looked at him still sat in the bed, his breath coming in pants as if he’d just run a marathon, his eyes wide with panic and she instantly fell silent. She stood up slowly, confused why no-one had come running yet, and raised her hands in what she hoped was a sign of surrender. 

“Stiles. It’s me. Okay. It’s okay. It’s me.” She repeated, taking a step forward, registering when his eyes locked with hers.

“I knew it was a trick. You going to take me back now?” He spat angrily.

“Stiles.” Malia said, the confusion evident in her voice, “It’s Malia. I’m not taking you anywhere. It’s me. I promise.” She said taking another step forward, trying to calm herself when Stiles’ eyes started to glow.

“If you really are Malia then what the hell are you doing here?” He said quietly, his voice low, and Malia felt herself shiver involuntarily, he sounded dangerous, hell, he looked dangerous.

“I needed to see you. I couldn’t settle. You were having a nightmare.” She said slowly, trying to keep her heart as calm as possible, she knew that was foolish, Stiles couldn’t hear her heartbeat, although she wasn’t sure if that was true anymore. This Stiles looked like he was capable of anything. 

“I don’t believe you.” He said coldly, his eyes still glowing dangerously.

“You’re my anchor Stiles, you always have been, and you always will be. And even though we aren’t together anymore, that doesn’t change. I’ve been so lost these past few months. I needed you. And you weren’t here.” She saw the look of pain on Stiles’ face and regretted her words. “That wasn’t your fault though. I know you would have been here if you could. I just…” She stumbled over her words, “I just, I guess, I just needed to know you were okay, because you’re the person that keeps me human, and I just, I wanted to know you’re okay.” 

It took a minute for Stiles’ eyes to stop glowing and then he motioned to the bed next to him, still eying her suspiciously. Malia took a seat on the bed next to him, breathing his scent in, letting it calm her. 

“You going to tell me how you threw me across the room?” She asked after a few minutes. Stiles rolled his eyes, and it was such a reminder of how Stiles used to be that she couldn’t help but grin.

“Magic.” He said at the same time as he rolled his eyes again as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“You do magic now?” Malia asked, trying to disguise the awe in her voice. Stiles gazed at her, as if trying to figure out if he should trust her or not.

“I won’t tell anyone else.” Malia said a moment later and Stiles nodded his head briskly.

“Good.” He said solemnly, “Yes I can do magic.” He said eventually sighing heavily. Malia could tell he didn’t want to talk about it, but she couldn’t help but be a bit excited, this was pretty damn cool after all. 

“Is that why they can’t hear us?” She said after a moment’s thought.

“How did you know that?” Stiles asked, still staring at her suspiciously.

“You threw me into a wall, either you’ve soundproofed the room or the wolves have gone deaf.” Malia said simply, so glad that Stiles was still talking to her.

“Sorry about that.” He said quietly, apologizing for the instinctual reaction earlier.

“Don’t worry about it.” She replied, she leaned back against the wall, just glad to have Stiles home. “It’s our secret. I promise.” She said closing her eyes and letting herself drift back to sleep, suddenly exhausted.

Lydia

The next few weeks seemed to pass by in a blur, she was so glad Stiles seemed to be settling back into their lives, but he still barely spoke, and quite often it was to Malia, which frustrated Lydia. Of course she didn’t expect Stiles to love her back, but she wished he’d at least talk to her. As it was whenever she tried to bring up the subject of the night he was taken, the night she’d chosen Miller over him, he’d always dismiss her, tell her it wasn’t a big deal. She’d never even told him how the witch had forced her to say those things, how she’d forced every single one of them to spew hateful things to him. 

She hoped that Malia had maybe been able to tell him that, because he never seemed to be overly bothered by the fact. She hoped that he’d forgive her for been too weak to fight Catherine’s power. Except he never mentioned it, nobody else mentioned it, and Lydia felt like she was constantly walking on eggshells. Still, the day that Stiles smiled at her, even if it was sarcastically when he made a stupid joke about running with wolves, her heart had melted. She loved him, god she loved him, she wanted to tell him so badly, but how could she? Not when he was still trying to get to grips with everything, she needed to wait until he was settled, and then, maybe, if he still wanted to talk to her, maybe she could see how he felt about her.

Scott

By the time Scott arrived at the Hale house it was mid-afternoon, he’d been distracted the past few weeks, having Stiles home was such a big deal and he had to deal with it, but he also had his normal life to be getting on with, which meant shifts at the veterinary clinic and college and doing his homework and sometime in-between all that he had to sleep. He knew it was selfish but he was kind of glad all of the pack had decided to stay in Beacon Hills. Lydia was the only one who actually didn’t go to Beacon Hills College, and that was purely because it didn’t have the right mathematical course for her. She went to one two towns over and always came home at night. In a way none of them had wanted to move after Stiles was taken, none of them wanted to risk not been here when he returned. They’d waited for him and it was obviously worth it, if only he could break down the walls Stiles had erected.

“Hey Scott, how’s things?” Leo said happily when he appeared. Scott took a moment to take in Leo’s appearance, he was covered in dirt, he was sure that the guy had been rolling around in the dirt, it wouldn’t surprise him actually, Leo was a little bit weird sometimes, he always had some reasoning behind it, and he’d explain it to you, but then you wouldn’t be able to get him to shut up. It reminded him of Stiles. He glanced up to where Stiles was standing on the porch of the house, Malia stood steadily at his side. He shook his head, he was wrong, Leo reminded him of how Stiles used to be.

He knew that wasn’t fair, it wasn’t Stiles’ fault what had happened, but he’d been gone six months and he’d been back almost three weeks now and the only one he’d even remotely opened up to was Malia. He wasn’t pissed per say, it was just, him and Stiles were best friends, were supposed to be best friends, and Stiles couldn’t seem to even speak two words to him that actually meant something, that weren’t just cold, or sarcastic, or unrelated to anything important. Scott missed him, he missed his friend. At least Stiles seemed to be coming back to himself slightly, he’d started wearing the odd plaid shirt again, and finally taken off the long sleeve t-shirts. Scott had been so worried that his friend would be covered in scars and that was why he wouldn’t show them his arms, instead it was just his usual pale skin which relieved Scott no end.

“Hey Stiles.” He said approaching the steps a few minutes later after finally getting away from Leo. “How you doing buddy?”

“Fine and dandy.” Stiles replied, Scott knew it was a lie, despite the fact that Stiles’ heart was steady the entire time, he still knew his friend was lying to him. 

“Alright then. Malia, you doing better?” Scott asked, noticing how the coyote had finally settled down a couple of weeks ago. It had been so hard for her, harder than the rest of them he thought, because she was without her anchor, and as much as they tried to focus on a different anchor it always came back to Stiles, mainly because Malia refused to let it be anyone else. Because Stiles would need to know how important he was when he got back, would need to know that she hadn’t quit on him.

“I’m fine Scott.” She said calmly, so much more at ease than she had been for months that it still surprised him. He went into the house, the final touches were going in today, they’d be moving in by the end of the week. He couldn’t wait to show Stiles his room. 

“Have you seen Frank anywhere?” Scott asked Percy later that day, they’d been working all afternoon and Frank hadn’t appeared yet, it was really unlike him, actually come to think of it, he hadn’t been here yesterday either. Scott knew Frank worked a lot, but he’d promised he would be here today, he hadn’t even met Stiles yet!

“No bro, I was just thinking the same thing. I’ll give him a call.” Percy replied, a hint of worry in his words as he called Frank.

“Hey dude, where are you?” Percy asked as soon as the call connected.

“I’m sorry Frank can’t come to the phone at the moment.” A female voice replied.

“Who are you?” Percy asked, the confusion wafting off him in waves that had the rest of the wolves coming into the room.

“It’s more like what am I actually. Don’t worry, Frank and I have just been playing a little game. Maybe we can play one now, why don’t you try sniffing him out?” The woman laughed before hanging up the phone.

Suddenly the room was full of the pack, even Stiles stood quietly at the back of the room, a questioning look on his face. Scott bristled, one of his pack was in danger and he hadn’t even noticed. 

“You think it’s the vamp?” Percy asked. 

“I don’t know, you best get Bobby here though just in case.” Scott ordered.

“Present and accounted for.” Bobby said striding through the door. “What we got?” 

“Somebody has Frank. Apparently we’ll be able to sniff him out so he can’t be far, split into four groups, howl if you find him.” Scott ordered as the pack started to split off.

“Where do you want me?” Stiles asked quietly. Scott looked at him, his best friend, all colour seeming to have drained from his face, he was too pale and fragile looking, too human to be fighting a vampire. He’d only just got Stiles back, he couldn’t risk anything else hurting his friend.

“Sit this one buddy. We’ll be fine. Back in a bit.” Scott said before rushing out of the door. 

Stiles

Stiles watched the pack disappear out of the door and tried to convince himself not to follow. This wasn’t his fight anymore. The pack had made that clear the night in the caves. He wasn’t even sure why he was here at the Hale house, Malia had insisted he come, that she wanted to show him something important, and he’d not been able to refuse her.

He wanted to keep his walls in place, didn’t want to let any of them in, but they all seemed to be finding a way through the cracks, the way Scott’s eyes lit up whenever he saw him, his dad’s furrowed brow as he talked constantly glancing at Stiles as if to convince himself Stiles was still there, Malia constantly at his side, Lydia pulling a smile from him without even trying, Dean and Sam, both looking so broken whenever their father was mentioned that Stiles wanted to hug them, Leo constantly cracking jokes that Stiles found just too funny, Jackson looking so upset when Stiles didn’t automatically hug him back, hell even Derek with his crazy serial killer eyebrows had found a way through, and Bobby, even though he looked at Stiles with pity in his eyes, Stiles still cared about him, didn’t want him to die at the hands of this vamp. He didn’t want any of them to die, not when he knew things they didn’t. That was what this whole thing had been about anyway. Him protecting them. Nothing had changed. Nothing would ever change.

So despite the fact that he wanted to pretend he didn’t care about them, didn’t want to see the looks of guilt he knew were directed his way, the only reason they were keeping him around, he still found himself following them silently through the woods, regretting his decision every second of the way, knowing it was only going to end in bloodshed and heartbreak.

Malia

It didn’t take her long to find Frank, the blood trail started a few hundred metres from the house and the whole pack followed it into the clearing, slowing only slightly to ensure that the Sheriff and Bobby could keep up.

She hadn’t expected to see a woman sat in a mountain ash circle, Frank tied up and gagged inside the circle with her. Malia took a moment to take in the scene in front of her, the woman was beautiful, long blonde hair, a pretty face, definite curves, but the way she held the knife so dangerously in her long fingers ensured Malia knew that she wasn’t to be messed with. The circle was about fifteen foot in diameter, almost encompassing the whole clearing and inside was another circle almost completely formed with some kind of white substance that Malia couldn’t place. Frank was staring at her with calm eyes, despite the fact that he had evidently been kidnapped he didn’t seem overly panicked, although his eyes kept glancing over to the trees on the far side of the clearing, Malia looked once, didn’t see anything, and turned her attention back to the woman in the circle.

The rest of the pack arrived only a moment later, all seeming to assess the scene before them. Surprisingly it was Bobby who first thought to reach for Frank through the barrier, sure that it wouldn’t be able to stop him as he was only human. He was thrown backwards through the air, landing against one of the trees hard, Sam had rushed to him, helped him unsteadily to his feet while the rest of the pack just growled at the woman. 

“Come now, you didn’t honestly think it would be that easy?” She cooed, her voice soft and relaxing. Malia hated her.

“What do you want?” Scott demanded glaring at the woman with disgust.

“Nothing much. I just want my spark. Give it to me and I’ll leave.” The woman said coldly.

Malia’s heart rate through the roof, all of the pack turning to look at her with curious looks when they noticed, she was panicking, could barely breathe with the fear and the anger, if this was who she thought it was then it was a good job there was a protective circle, otherwise Malia would claw her throat out without hesitation. Unfortunately the fact that the whole pack turned to look at her attracted the woman’s interest too. 

“Do you know where it is?” The woman said, glaring at Malia. She started to shake her head that she didn’t know anything but she suddenly found herself unable to move. She cried out in pain as her arms were pulled away from her body, every muscle tensing as pain throbbed through her, she was sure her arms were about to be pulled off. She didn’t think she’d survive that, didn’t think she’d want to anyway.

“Where is it?” The woman demanded coming closer to the edge of the circle.

Malia growled back at her. “You’re not getting anywhere near him. He’s not yours. You’ll just have to kill me.”

“Him?” Scott asked cluelessly, if she had any use of her arms right now then she’d smack him around the head. She felt her limbs been pulled further apart and cried out again in pain. 

“Stop it!” The pack was screaming, the different voices echoing around the clearing, unable to do anything, unable to move, panic written on their faces.

“Tell me where it is!” The woman screamed her face losing all control over her emotions, her eyes glowing with anger. 

“Not a chance.” Malia replied a smirk on her lips, knowing that she was about to die. But she’d do it. Without hesitation. If it meant protecting him.

The woman screamed in rage and Malia knew that it was over.

“Stop.” A voice instructed and Malia couldn’t help but whimper in panic when Stiles stepped into the clearing.

Stiles

He knew as soon as he heard the shouting that it was her, that she’d come for him. He knew it would only be a matter of time before she’d make her move. He hadn’t expected Malia to protect him quite so valiantly, perhaps she still felt guilt over last time, he knew he’d shared a few things with her, a few details of the whole experience, but he didn’t think she would protect him with her life. He didn’t deserve it. He knew that if it came to a choice between him and Frank, it would end in the same result as last time, him with a knife in his chest and everyone else walking away. He grimaced.

He was scared, he wasn’t too far gone that he couldn’t admit that. But being scared wouldn’t change anything, and right now he was the only one that would be able to stop Malia been torn to shreds. 

“Stop.” He said, he hoped it came out strong and controlled, showed her that he wasn’t afraid, even if he knew that his heart would be giving away his panic to the wolves around him. He couldn’t help but let go of some of the panic when Malia dropped boneless to the floor, looking at him with terror in her eyes, at least one of them was safe for now.

“No Stiles.” Malia whispered, but he had to ignore her, face the woman in front of him.

“Catherine.” He said in greeting, trying to keep his voice calm and even.

“Spark.” She replied in greeting. 

“What?” Scott shouted, “Stiles have you lost your mind? That’s not Catherine!” 

Stiles couldn’t help but grin at his friends naivety. “She has a thing with changing her face Scotty, trust me. It’s her.” 

Catherine smirked at his words, dropping the façade and allowing them to see the face that they associated with her. 

“Always ruining my fun Stiles.”

“It’s the only amusement I get.” He replied coldly. “Where’s Faye?” He asked, ignoring the growing looks of confusion on his packs faces. And, oh my god, he called them his pack, they were back under his skin again, and they would throw him away like a piece of rubbish again. He tried not to panic, tried to ignore the looks of anguish on their faces when Faye stepped into the clearing. He nodded his head in greeting at the vampire, who grinned at him, flashing her teeth in reply.

“You know what I’m here for.” Catherine said as Faye stepped into the circle and pulled Frank to his feet. It was the first time that Stiles had met Frank, he took one look at the guy, saw him staring at Stiles with wide eyes, eyes that said he knew exactly what Stiles was, and the guy was scared of him. Stiles couldn’t help but grin slightly. 

“Of course I do.” He said taking another step forward. “The same thing you always want. Me.” Stiles couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the pleas from his pack, for him to run, to save himself, that she couldn’t have him, it was all empty promises. He knew what was coming, knew that any second she’d offer up a trade, Frank for Stiles. He wasn’t going to wait for them to pick somebody else over him. Wasn’t going to wait for them to betray him again. 

“So hand him over and I’ll go with you.” Stiles said, glad to see the surprise in Catherine’s eyes. 

“That’s not how this works Stiles. You know that.” She warned gently a smirk on her lips.

“I know how it works with you.” He replied, trying to stay as casual as possible, not let her know that his whole body was thrumming in energy. 

“You can’t have him.” Malia screamed suddenly. “You can’t.” She was practically sobbing and Stiles turned to look at her, she really seemed to mean that, he paused momentarily in confusion as more and more of the pack refused for her to take Stiles. Catherine meanwhile only grinned at him.

“You know what that means Stiles. I’ll take Frank to the witching realm in your place. You think he can handle it?” 

Stiles felt his stomach roll, no he’d never let anyone else suffer through that. He took a final step forward, into the circle, stepping through the barrier as if it was nothing, ignoring the shocked gasps behind him. Ignoring the whispered plea of Lydia to stay with them no matter what the cost.

It all clicked into place for Stiles, he didn’t know what caused it, didn’t know why it suddenly made sense to him, he’d seen Catherine do it time and time again while on the other side, force people to confess to crimes they didn’t commit. Except he’d never thought she’d done it to his pack, never thought she’d done it to him. He could see clearly now, for the first time in so long, see what she’d done to him, he turned momentarily to look at the pack behind the barrier. Really look at them, look at the despair, the fear in their faces. It was the same looks they had worn when Catherine had controlled them last time, when they’d spewed hatred words at him, when they’d sentenced him to death. 

He turned to look at Catherine, a sudden weight lifted off his shoulder but his eyes glowing with anger and she took a moment to look shocked before she started laughing.

“Finally figured it out have you Stiles? Took you long enough. You never were very smart were you? Thinking all this time that they’d betrayed you.” He ignored the shocked gasps behind him, obviously as the pack arrived at the conclusion that Stiles hadn’t known. They’d thought he would have realised Catherine had controlled them. He ignored her statement, knowing that would piss her off more than anything else.

He shrugged his shoulders, trying to loosen up some of the tension, trying to ignore the itch under his skin as his magic gathered.

He strolled around the edges of the circle, keeping as far from Catherine as possible, seeing the shimmering in the middle of the circle where Catherine had already started to open the portal. He pressed his lips together, met her gaze and shook his head.

“You’re getting sloppy Catherine, opening a portal before you’ve even got your prey where you want him.” Stiles couldn’t help but shoot a small smile at his dad. He had to get a message out that things were going to be okay, that they would all be okay. Catherine growled at him, a human growl, but still, he supposed it was mildly impressive. 

“You’re mine, Spark. Don’t forget that.” She warned.

“Actually that’s where you’re wrong. I was yours. But didn’t ownership pass over to Margaret after that bet you made? And now she’s dead right? So I guess that means no-one owns me now.” He said condescendingly, edging his way towards Frank and Faye. 

“You killed her. You tore her throat out. You’re mine. Don’t you dare forget it.” Catherine replied angrily, losing control over the magic woven into her.

“Yeah, I did kill her. I tore her throat out. With my teeth.” He grinned, winking at Derek, getting a look of pure surprise in return. “One of my most memorable moments actually.” He smiled at Catherine. “If your sister hadn’t been such a sick fuck I wouldn’t have even been able to get close, so it’s her own fault really.”

Catherine was really struggling to maintain her magic now, he could see it, the pack were able to move again, the barrier was weakening, all of her magic was been directed at him and he was revelling in it, unable to keep the crazed grin from his face, knowing things were about to go crazy, he’d have to act fast.

“You are a little shit.” She raged.

“Yeah I am. Always have been, always will be.” He grinned again, dodging this time when she launched a bolt of lightning at him, he ended up next to Faye, who looked at him in surprise as he grabbed hold of her and threw her at the barrier with all of his strength. 

He only had a moment to register the look of astonishment on the ancient vampires face before she disintegrated in front of him. He couldn’t help but laugh, he’d wanted to do that for so long. He turned back to Catherine who was screaming at him in rage, he knew exactly what needed to be done, he just prayed he had the strength. 

He took another step forward, into the second circle made of white powder, sealing it quickly behind him so that both he and Catherine were enclosed in a powerful barrier that formed a clear dome around them as the mountain ash barrier collapsed behind them.

He shook his shoulders again, trying to loosen the muscles, knowing this was about to end brutally.

“Once more into the fray I go…” He mumbled, ignoring the pack as they rushed forward to the barrier, banging on it uselessly with their fists, tears streaming down their faces, screaming his name, begging him to come back to them, all their voices muffled as the barrier did its job, he prayed it would be enough to protect them from what was coming. 

“…Into the last good fight I’ll ever go.” He felt the power building in him, knew the power was building for Catherine too, the crackle of electricity making his hair stand on end. 

“Live and die on this day…” He mumbled knowing that if that’s what it took to protect them, that’s exactly what he would do. If it meant he had to die then so be it, so long as he took her with him. 

“Live and die on this day.” He glanced back, locking eyes with his dad, suddenly understanding how much it must have hurt John to have those words torn from his throat. He regretted that he would probably never get the chance to hug his dad again, to tell him how sorry he was that he had to go through that. He tried to say it with his eyes though, hoped his dad knew how sorry he was even if he couldn’t get the words out. 

He turned back to Catherine, felt the power surging around her, hoped that his power was just as strong, prayed he could defeat her, knew he had to if he wanted any of them to live.

“Bring it bitch.” He growled.

John

He couldn’t process this, he just couldn’t. First this woman had Frank, then she’s threatening to murder Malia who apparently knows what this Spark is. And then it’s Stiles. Of course it’s Stiles. It’s always freaking Stiles. 

He watched his son weave his way through the pack towards the barrier, he knew that the casual stroll was faked, knew it in the way his shoulders were bunched up and tense, knew that his son was trying to sound calm and in control even though that Stiles was nervous. John was mind-numbingly terrified for his son. Terrified that he was about to lose him to some supernatural creature again. But then it turns out it’s the same supernatural creature and she can change her face and she’s after Stiles. 

He was raging inside, he could literally feel the anger causing his chest to constrict, his body shake, but he couldn’t let it out because the bitch had control of him again, he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t move and he couldn’t protect his son. He was a failure as a father.

When Stiles had said to take him instead of Frank John was pretty sure the tears had been streaming down his face, he couldn’t let this happen again, and how could his son offer himself so willingly? And what the hell was the witching realm? John was so confused and more than that he was petrified. He couldn’t lose Stiles again, not when he’d just got him back. 

But then Stiles had gone through the barrier as if it was nothing, despite the fact it had thrown Bobby backwards and John was sure it was some kind of spell. When it finally dawned on John that Stiles hadn’t known he felt his heart shatter. His son had spent the last three weeks with them convinced that they’d betrayed him. And never, not once, had he ever asked them about it, he’d never accused them, or yelled at them. He’d stayed with them. John had assumed that Catherine would have told him, she’d had six months to torture him, telling him how his family had been forced to say those words would have surely hurt Stiles, so John had assumed she’d told him. Assumed that he had known. Well, you know what they say about assuming. It just made him an ass. He was sure his heart was going to shatter if he lost his son.

Except then it was all happening so fast, the witch was throwing a bolt of lightning at Stiles who dodged out of the way and then threw the vampire into the barrier. But then he’d sealed himself in another barrier with Catherine and none of them could get to them, no matter how much John pleaded or Scott roared or Lydia screamed or any of the rest of the pack pounded with their fists, none of it made it through. Stiles was looking at him with such sorrow in his eyes, as if it was his fault, and John couldn’t bear it. 

“Stiles!” He screamed again, banging against the barrier as his son turned away from him. “God! Stiles! Please!” He was screaming, he didn’t know what he was pleading for, didn’t know what he wanted other than his son safe in his arms again.

“Bring it bitch.” He heard Stiles’ muffled voice through the barrier and then there was jets of light flying towards Stiles, who was shooting them right back.

“Holy shit.” He found himself muttering, because that was his son, battling a witch, using magic. He heard the other murmurs across the clearing as the others processed the fact that Stiles was using magic. The only one he didn’t seem bothered was Malia who was still banging on the barrier, determined to break through it. 

He had never felt so helpless. His son was fighting a powerful witch, one who could control them, their bodies; their words. And right now she was grinning and laughing as Stiles picked himself up from the floor, blood running down his forehead, wiping it from his eyes.

“I would have thought the one who killed my sister would have more about him.” Catherine laughed, her voice just as muffled by the barrier.

“I’m just warming up.” Stiles said grinning at her, shoving his hands down to the ground and roots whipped up from the earth and grabbed hold of Catherine. She set them on fire with a grim smile on her face and moved back towards Stiles.

“You never did get very far past earth magic.” She smirked, casting another spell that seemed to leave Stiles struggling for air. A moment later she stopped and Stiles collapsed to his knees.

“You forget.” Stiles replied, his voice hoarse, the slight look of defeat in his eyes as he looked to John. “That was back when I was your pet. And I haven’t been that for a long time.” Stiles said finally slamming his hands together. John had a brief moment to see his son looking at him with wide eyes, sorrow filling them before there was a blast like a bomb going off and John was knocked backwards off his feet.

Frank

He’d been around enough magic growing up that he knew as soon as Stiles stepped over the barrier he was somebody incredibly powerful. He’d been afraid, he wasn’t sure why, surely the fact that Stiles was on their side meant that he wasn’t going to kill Frank. But Frank could sense the power rolling off Stiles in waves, he wondered why none of the others had mentioned it, he wondered if any of them had even noticed it. How could they not?

Still the idea that Stiles was on their side soothed him just slightly, the idea that Catherine had been planning to take him to the witching realm instead had made him feel slightly sick, he’d heard of some of the things that happened there, well they used to, back when his mum was around, he wasn’t sure if it was still like that, but the way Stiles spoke it gave him the impression that it was. He shuddered.

Before Frank could really process what was going on Stiles was throwing Faye into the barrier, the crackle of electricity as Catherine gathered her powers made Frank feel like crying. He was tied up and gagged, he had never felt so useless, so helpless, and then Stiles was stepping forward trapping the two of them inside the second ring and forming a barrier around them and Frank could finally breathe again. Jackson untied him as the fight continued on the other side of the barrier, and Frank thanked him as he helped him unsteadily to his feet, the wolfsbane finally starting to leave his system now the ropes were off. 

He’d never met Stiles before today, but he’d listened as all the others spoke about him, how Stiles had been the first one to figure out that Scott was a werewolf, how he’d been there for his pack time and time again, how he’d saved them all time after time. But that when he’d needed them, they’d failed him. He knew they all felt guilt over that, even Leo who had only known the guy while they were in the caves together, even Jason who had never met Stiles until the witch had forced him to choose between Stiles and Miller. Everyone knew that Stiles was the glue. The only person who didn’t was Stiles apparently. 

Frank knew the battle was ending, knew that Stiles was on the losing side, knew that they were all going to die, but he couldn’t help but feel relieved. At least they would all go together. At least he’d finally had a chance to meet Stiles, had a chance to be amazed by the boy who ran with wolves. He looked at the rest of the pack knew that they were all thinking the same thing, that they would all rather die today then live one more day without Stiles in their lives.

Stiles slammed his hands together and Frank was blasted back off his feet and hit the ground hard.

Lydia

When Lydia sat up she saw the rest of the pack still down on the ground, all sitting up slowly, all brushing the dust off themselves as they clambered to their feet. But all she could see was Stiles. The very still, very immobile Stiles.

Jackson got there before her, hammering on the barrier that was still in place. Stiles was lying on the other side of it, blood still dripping from his head wound, his shirt torn in several places, his skin pale, dark circles under his eyes. He was too still, god he was much too still.

“Stilinski!” Jackson was roaring. “God damn it. Wake the hell up!” The rest of the pack were gathering around now. All of them screaming at the barrier, begging Stiles to move, show some sign of life. 

Lydia couldn’t deal with this, she couldn’t lose him. She screamed as loud as she could, directing every single bit of her strength into breaking down the barrier. She knew that everyone was looking at her as they covered their ears, knew she looked deranged, but she didn’t care. She just kept screaming until finally the barrier crumbled under her determination.

She surged forward, not caring that the others were still on their knees trying to recover, collapsing to the ground next to Stiles.

“Please. God. Please be alive Stiles.” She said grabbing his wrist as she felt for a pulse. She started to cry as soon as she felt one, the sheer relief making her feel a little dizzy. She sat at his side, sobbing and laughing in equal measure, “He’s alive. He’s alive.” She repeated making sure the pack could hear her. “You’re alive Stiles. You’re okay. We’ve got you.” She said stroking his hair gently, glad that in this moment he couldn’t push her away, that she could be here.

“What about the witch?” Percy said after a few minutes of celebratory hugging had been shared. They all glanced around, there was no sign of her. Nobody seemed to know what had happened and Stiles was still unconscious on the ground. 

“We should get him back to the house.” Derek growled scooping Stiles up carefully. “We should call your mum to look at this head wound Scott.”

Scott nodded solemnly, and they all followed Derek back in the direction of the house. Lydia’s knees felt weak, now that she knew he was alive she felt exactly how much it had taken out of her to break down the barrier. She trailed behind the rest of the group and soon Jackson dropped back to wrap an arm around her waist. 

“Come on Lydia, nearly there now.” He encouraged. She nodded, wanting to acknowledge his statement but not having the energy to speak.

“That was some pretty powerful screaming back there. You must really love him.” Jackson said simply. Lydia stopped in her tracks looking at Jackson in fear.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to say anything. But you should. To Stiles. You’ve lost each other too many times. Don’t make the mistake of not saying it now you’ve got the chance.” He said firmly and Lydia couldn’t do anything other than nod dumbly. 

“Come on, let’s get home.” Jackson said, helping her back towards the house.

“You don’t mind?” She said eventually finding her voice. Jackson looked at her in confusion.

“We haven’t been together in over three years, and even then I was a jackass nine tenths of the time. Lydia you deserve someone like Stiles. Someone who loves you. Who knows how amazing you are. And he needs someone like you to keep him in line. I love you, but not like I used to, and not like you love him.”

“Do you think he loves me back?” She asked timidly.

“Yes.” Jackson said without a second of hesitation. “He might not be himself right now, but he’s always loved you and I don’t think that will ever stop.”

Bobby

They settled Stiles in his room upstairs, Melissa had taken a look at him and said the wound was superficial, that he looked to be suffering from exhaustion more than anything else. She’d gone to check him for other wounds and the whole room had fallen silent when they’d seen the intricate tattoos that covered whole sections of Stiles’ chest and arms, there had been more than a few tears spilled when they’d seen the scars that littered his chest and arms, John’s fingers had hovered over the large scar in the middle of Stiles’ chest and Bobby guessed that was where the knife had gone in. Right below the word ‘mine’ was carved into his chest, although it had faded significantly and was pretty well covered by some of the tattoos. Bobby couldn’t help but let out a sigh, the fact that Stiles had kept this hidden from all of them just showed how much power the kid had, it wasn’t as if he’d just kept them covered, he’d kept them invisible. The only reason they were on show now was because Stiles didn’t have the energy to keep the spell up, Bobby worried about how close to death the kid was.

They’d gone downstairs not long afterwards, all of them wrapped up in their own thoughts, trying to process the fact that Stiles had magic. That he’d saved them yet again. That he’d thought they’d betrayed him, abandoned him and he’d still saved them.

“When did you find out?” John asked, his voice tight. Bobby looked up to see him glaring at Malia.

“A few weeks ago.” She replied. “He wanted it kept secret.” She said simply. Lydia was sat on the sofa, and Bobby couldn’t help but chuckle when the girl groaned and put her head in her hands.

“What do you know?” Dean said, his voice filled with frustration.

“Not much, just that Catherine took him to the witching realm.” Malia replied.

“That’s like the fifth time I’ve heard that tonight. What the hell is the witching realm?” Dean demanded, turning to Bobby, knowing he’d have the answer.

Bobby cleared his throat, he’d known this was coming, ever since Stiles had reappeared. He wasn’t going to be the one to blab the kids secret, but he wasn’t going to keep something from them, not from his boys. At least not the general things.

“Well, take a seat and I’ll tell you what I know.” Bobby watched as one by one the whole pack sunk to the seats in front of him. 

“The witching realm, is like it’s called, the realm of witches. It’s not a place on Earth. More like the realm runs side by side with our world. A parallel realm.” Bobby began. “It’s pretty much void of life other than the witches that reside there. And these aren’t the nice ones, you only exist in the witching realm if you are a psychotic bitch, the deep dark, the ones who don’t need to mutter a word and still get you to slit your own throat. You won’t find a druid or a white witch in there ever. They die as soon as they cross over. They literally can’t live there.” 

“So you’re saying Stiles is an evil witch?” Scott asked and Bobby was glad when Sam smacked him around the back of the head.

“No. Not in the slightest. The witches can take humans from this world, and they keep them as, erm, well, pets for lack of a better word. Not many humans survive long, but it’s possible. The witches travel back and forth between the realms easily enough, but the humans don’t. If they wanted to take a human back with them there has to be a blood sacrifice, and a big one at that.” There were audible gasps as he spoke.

“That’s what it was when she stabbed Stiles? A blood sacrifice?” Miller asked quietly.

“Yes. I mean, her brother had already started it. With you.” Bobby said, not liking the fact that the woman still shuddered with fear at that memory. “But when Catherine killed him she took the power from the spell he had started, when a witch kills another witch they can draw all the power from them, it’s why there aren’t that many sociable witches, god chance you’ll get stabbed in the back as soon as you turn your back. She didn’t have to kill Stiles to get him through, just had to wound him badly.” 

“But he survived.” Dean said, as if to remind himself that Stiles was asleep upstairs and not still with Catherine.

“Yeah.” Bobby nodded. “Kid’s a fighter. So the realm is pretty brutal, I’m not going to sugar-coat it, and I’m sure Stiles will tell you what it was like if and when he wants to. But yeah, it’s brutal, it’s pretty much a hell dimension. The witches enjoy it there, which shows just how fucked up they are. But she called Stiles a spark. Which is a different matter altogether. He had a bit of power in him, before she took him over there, so she didn’t need to be as vicious, I guess she just enjoyed it. But I’m not sure. It’s almost as if she was deliberately vicious towards him. I know, evil witch, going to be vicious, but there’s more to it than that I’m sure.” He said, trying to think it through in his own mind.

“She wanted him broken.” Malia replied and all heads turned to her.

Malia

“Care to fill the rest of us in?” Derek growled echoing the rest of the packs thoughts. Malia looked at them, trying to figure out how much to tell them, what to tell them, and if it was still a secret now that they all knew about Stiles’ magic. Been a human was hard. 

“Alright fine. But if Stiles gets mad at me it’s your fault.” She replied glaring at Derek. “It works like Bobby said, the worlds are parallel. Each place of power in this world is replicated in their world. So we have a very powerful place of power near here…”

“The nemeton.” Lydia sighed. Malia nodded.

“Except they can’t get at it. If you haven’t noticed every single attack from any witches in the past have never been anywhere within a mile of the nemeton.” Malia continued, watching as Bobby’s eyes widened comically.

“Because Stiles is a spark, he unknowingly cast a spell of protection over the nemeton, protecting it from dark uses. When he made the sacrifice to save his dad, it just made the spell and the nemeton even more powerful. So obviously it just made the witches want it more. So to break the protection they had to break Stiles. Make him think that none of us wanted him here. If he stopped protecting us, he stopped protecting the nemeton and the witches could get at it then. And they’d be even more powerful.” She concluded.

“So he was still protecting us? Even after he thought we’d said all that shit? Let her do all that crap?” Dean said, tears welling in his eyes as he thought about it and Malia nodded.

“Stiles will always protect us, even if we don’t deserve it. That’s the kind of person Stiles is.” She said wisely.

“But how the hell didn’t he break?” Bobby queried. The pack looked to him in confusion.

“All this time and he didn’t break.” Bobby said quietly almost to himself. 

“It’s been six months Bobby, don’t get me wrong, it will have been fucking awful, but it wasn’t that long.” Sam said suddenly looking angry when Bobby stared at him guiltily. 

“What aren’t you telling us Bobby?” Dean growled and Malia was a bit surprised, Bobby was like a second dad to Sam and Dean, she’d never seen them growl at him. Bobby rubbed his hand around the back of his neck, looking down at the floor.

“Well, you see,” Bobby began, taking a deep breath, “The other thing you probably need to know about the witching realm, I mean, yeah, you probably need to know about it,” He sighed, you could see he really didn’t want to share this bit of information. “Aw balls, alright, fine, like I said it’s basically a hell dimension and the fact is that time moves differently there.” 

There was silence as this newest piece of information was processed before John was up on his feet, grabbing hold of Bobby.

“How differently!? How long was my son there Bobby? How long!?” John demanded, his face turning red with anger. 

“It’s not my place to say.” Bobby replied calmly.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Tell me how long they had my fucking son Bobby!” John shouted.

“Six years.” Came the reply from the stairs. Malia turned to see Stiles stood on the bottom step, his face still incredibly pale, looking like he could fall over at any second, he looked at the room warily. “I was there six years.” 

Stiles

He opened his eyes slowly, blinking a few times as things came slowly into focus. His head was spinning and he felt like he might throw up, but the fact he was alive that was pretty damn impressive. It took him a minute to figure out where he was, he’d expected to be still lying inside the barrier so the fact that he was in a bedroom was a bit of a shock, it was a gorgeous room and he wondered who it belonged to, but then he could hear voices downstairs and he knew it must be the Hale house. He headed towards the door, cursing quietly when he saw the tattoos across his bare arms. He closed his eyes, concentrated for a moment and then opened them again, glad when they had disappeared. Nobody needed to see how desperate he had become in his time away.

He walked as quietly as possible towards the voices, trying not to stumble as his head throbbed particularly viciously. He was exhausted, he needed to sleep for a little while longer yet, no that was a lie. He needed to sleep for a lot longer. But he needed to make sure they were all okay, that the blast hadn’t hurt any of them. He’d hoped the barrier would protect them, but he hadn’t been definite about the fact, yet he’d still cast the spell, god he was a horrible person. What if someone had been hurt because of it? He’d never forgive himself.

He hated this, he’d spent so long only looking out for himself, not having to think about the consequences of his spells because there was only him around to face them. He had had no friends in the witching realm, there were no innocents there. Only enemies. It didn’t matter if people got hurt in the crossfire because it was just one less person to torture him. Except that wasn’t the case now. Now there were innocent people involved and he could have hurt some of them. He could have hurt his pack.

Admittedly he would have had to cast the spell either way, he didn’t have a choice in the matter, it was either that or lose and watch as Catherine murdered his pack, and then go back to that place. He couldn’t face it. So of course he’d cast the spell, praying that it was enough. Now he had to face the consequences, the looks of betrayal he was sure to get, the fact that somebody else would be hurt because of him, the way somebody always got hurt because of him.

He stopped on the bottom step when he heard the shouting, saw his dad grab hold of Bobby, demand to know how long Stiles had been gone. Stiles had spoken before he even registered he was going to say the words. 

“Six years.” He said quietly, trying to stop himself from falling to the ground as his body protested, “I was there six years.” He looked at the ground, suddenly thinking that it was probably the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. He didn’t want to meet their eyes, see the disgust there. He felt hands touch his shoulder, his chin, bringing his head up and forcing his eyes to look at his father.

“Six years?” John asked him softly, his voice cracking in disbelief, his eyes filled with tears. Stiles nodded, unsure what else he could. “Oh god Stiles. I’m so sorry.” His dad cried, pulling him into a tight hug, holding onto him like Stiles was about to break, and maybe he was, he wasn’t sure if he was honest. He was tired, and the fact that somebody else was keeping him upright made him feel like he could just close his eyes and go back to sleep. 

“Is everyone okay?” He mumbled into his dad’s ear, too tired to keep his eyes open. 

“Stiles.” His dad said, pulling away from him, keeping his hand on both his shoulders, forcing Stiles to open his eyes and look at his dad.

“Stiles, everyone’s fine son. Are you okay?” Stiles nodded, he’d been running on adrenaline, needing to know that everyone was alive, and because he knew that now, he couldn’t find the strength to keep himself upright anymore. 

“m’fine.” He mumbled before letting his eyes close and his legs give out.

John

John looked at his son stood on the step in front of him and couldn’t help but pull him into a crushing hug. How could he not have known? How could he have let his son go through that? He hadn’t had a choice, he hadn’t been able to fight off the witches spell, he hadn’t been strong enough and it had been Stiles that suffered. When he heard his son ask if everyone else was okay he felt his heart shatter, of course Stiles would think of them before himself; that was the kind of person he was. Despite the fact that his son was swaying on his feet, evidently exhausted, he was still asking about everyone else. 

“Stiles, everyone’s fine son. Are you okay?” John asked pulling away from Stiles, needing to see with his own eyes that Stiles was still there, was still with them. He hadn’t expected his son to let out a sigh that sounded something like “I’m fine.” Before his eyes rolled up and he collapsed. John held tight to him, stopping him hitting the floor. 

“Stiles? Stiles.” John shouted, trying to wake his son up, terrified that he was dead. He looked up at the wolves all on their feet above him. “What’s happening?” John asked praying one of them could give him an answer.

“His hearts still beating. I think he just went to sleep.” Frank said quietly from the corner of the room. John smiled as the weight lifted from his chest, stroking Stiles’ hair.

“He did always have a flair for the dramatics.” John grinned, accepting the help as Scott and Liam picked Stiles up and laid him on the couch. Scott rested against Stiles placing his hand on his arm and drawing any pain he could. 

“Is he hurting?” John asked.

“A little bit, but it’s more of an exhaustion than anything else.” Scott said, “He’ll be fine after a decent sleep.” 

The pack settled back into their seats, all eyes glancing back at Stiles every few seconds. 

“I don’t get how he could have been gone six years?” Liam asked eventually, “He doesn’t look any older.” He said, glancing at Bobby hoping the man could answer the query.

Bobby

He was fed up of been sociable, he liked his solitude, liked to spend days without talking to anyone. And today he’d talked longer than he’d ever spoken before, he was sure of it. He wasn’t used to people actually listening to what he had to say. Sure Sam and Dean had always called him and asked him for information on a hunt, but as soon as they’d got what they’d needed they’d hung up. He didn’t blame them, the boys were idiots sometimes, they’d wander into a hunt, not knowing what they were after, and then call him asking what it could be when they actually saw the thing. The call usually got cut off because one of them had been thrown across the graveyard, car park, building or wherever they were at the time. They weren’t the best planners, Bobby snorted as he had that thought. 

So when Liam started to ask him questions and look at him like he really wanted to hear what Bobby had to say, it made him feel kind of important and he couldn’t help the small blush across his cheeks as everyone turned to listen to him.

“Well, I met a witch one. One that had lived in the realm. She wasn’t exactly happy about our little chat. And it didn’t last very long. But she told me about the pets,” He glanced up at Stiles still asleep on the couch and cleared his throat, “Sorry, the people that they took to the realm. Despite the fact that they’re in a different realm their bodies remember where they actually belong, so they age as they would if they were still here. So even though Stiles was there for six years, he only aged as if he’d been gone six months.” Bobby said, hoping that covered everything Liam wanted to know.

“So what else did she tell you?” Derek asked curiously.

“Not much I guess. Just the usual.”

“What’s the usual?” Miller asked quietly.

“Erm, well, she told me that usually the pets,” He cringed using that word, “They break pretty easily. It’s good for them because once they’re broken the witches can use them to carry out their will in this world. And sometimes, people don’t even notice they were gone. The witch who I spoke to, well, she had a liking for taking people when they were going on holiday. By the time they were due back, she’d broken them, shoved them back into their lives and then got them to do horrible acts in her name.” Bobby said, glancing at the white faces around the room.

“That’s awful.” Lydia whispered.

“That’s kind of what they do.” Bobby said stating the obvious. Did these kids not realize just how dangerous these witches were?

“What about the ones who don’t come back here?” Leo asked curiously. 

“Well, they stay in the realm with the witches, but they turn to something darker, more malicious than anything you’ve ever seen before. The vampire, Faye, she was one of them. They’re tortured until they break, and then the witches change them with whatever power they want to use them for and then they keep them nearby, the witches gain power from the pets, and anything evil they do the witch feels it as a power surge. They usually keep the pets they’ve broken in for centuries, they get quite attached I imagine. But eventually they get bored and they want another one to break in, the stronger the better. They want to add to their powers.”

“Centuries?” Jackson asked.

“Yeah, even with the witches power in them, they still age as a human, they take them when they are young and then keep them until they get to old to fight, that’s maybe twenty or thirty years here, but more like two or three hundred with them.” Bobby said quietly.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Scott said looking incredibly pale.

“What about the ones that don’t break?” Jason asked, “The ones that get out without breaking?” He said looking to Stiles.

“If I’m honest, I didn’t know it was possible.” Bobby said finally, all eyes going to Stiles. “Nobody ever lasted that long according to the witch. Some a day or two, some a week maybe a month, none of them over a year. I guess they never met anyone like Stiles before.” He let out a small smile. They had to know that Stiles was alive and in one piece, that no matter what they’d done to him he hadn’t broken, he’d come back to them, he was alive.

Scott

Scott wasn’t sure he was really processing all of this. It had been an exhausting day, when he’d woken up that morning it was with the idea of showing Stiles his room, hoping to see a small smile on his best friends face. But now he was sat next to Stiles, still drawing a small amount of pain from his unconscious form, and Stiles had magic, and scars, and tattoos. Scott hadn’t known about any of it. How could he not have known? Stiles was his best friend. He knew Stiles hadn’t been the same since he’d got back, but Scott hadn’t expected him to be, six months, no scratch that, six years of torture will change somebody, no doubt about it. But surely Scott should have seen how much Stiles had changed. Surely he should have said something, made sure that Stiles understood it was the witch, not them, that had said those awful things.

He looked around the room at his pack, Derek, Jackson and Miller had gone out to get some food but the rest were littered around the room, none of them willing to leave and go to their actual bedrooms when Stiles was still unconscious. Lydia was sat at the other end of the couch, Stiles’ feet were resting on her lap and she was resting her arm over his legs gently as if afraid of hurting him. 

Scott knew that as soon as Stiles woke up he was going to tell him how sorry he was, how much guilt he felt for not realizing just how much his brother had suffered. Stiles would listen to him, he had to listen to him. Scott needed to make this right. He couldn’t ever let Stiles think that he didn’t love him, that he wasn’t pack. Not again.

The others arrived back with food a little while later and the pack were all eating quietly when Stiles started to stir. Scott moved away slightly, just so that he could get a proper look at Stiles as he woke up, make sure that he could see Stiles was okay with his own eyes.

“Stiles?” He said quietly, not wanting to disturb him if he was still asleep. 

Stiles turned slightly in his sleep, mumbling words that made no sense, within minutes Stiles was practically thrashing in his sleep, sweat forming across his body and small whimpers of pain been pulled from his lips. The pack was gathered around the sofa, watching Stiles as he struggled with his nightmare.

“Stiles.” Scott said louder this time, unable to watch Stiles suffer any longer, he reached out to touch his shoulder just as Malia screamed for him to stop.

Stiles’ eyes shot open and they were glowing a bright gold, before Scott could register anything else he felt himself go flying backwards, the rest of the pack with him, as if a giant barrier had just been thrown up around Stiles and they had all been flung away from it. He connected hard with the wall but it only stunned him momentarily, thankfully Bobby, his mum and John hadn’t hit anything nearly as hard and were already getting to their feet. 

Before Scott could move, before any of them could act, Malia was taking a step forward, holding her hands up in surrender to Stiles, glaring at the rest of them to not intervene. 

“Stiles. It’s me. It’s okay. It’s me.”

“Really?” Stiles asked, his chest heaving as he tried to breathe, his voice cracking from his dry throat.

“I promise. You’re home. You’re safe.” 

“I saw her.” He replied.

“I know. But you beat her. I promise you. This is real.” Malia said quietly as she took another step forward.

“It’s a trick.” Stiles said, his eyes still glowing, not seeing anything other than Malia.

“It’s not. Stiles, listen to my voice. She never got the voices right remember? It’s me. It’s real.” Malia whispered.

Stiles nodded after a moment and the glow started to fade from his eyes. Eventually he seemed to recognize the fact that the whole pack was in the room and were all staring at him.

“Erm, hey guys.” He said waving awkwardly. 

Scott rushed forward, pulling Stiles into a bone crushing hug.

“I’m sorry. God Stiles, I’m so sorry. I thought you knew. She made us say those things, we would never had let her take you if we could have fought it. God I’m so sorry, I wasn’t strong enough to stop her.” Scott cried as it all poured out of him.

“It’s okay Scotty.” Stiles said hugging him back and Scott couldn’t help but cry even harder.

“It’s not okay. It’s not. I was too weak to protect you. She hurt you and it’s all my fault.” Scott whimpered.

“Not just yours.” John said approaching them. “Mine too. I was too weak to stop her from using me in the same way, and I just assumed you knew, I didn’t think for a moment that you would have believed it. You’re my son and I love you. Nothing will ever change that.” 

“It wasn’t your fault.” Stiles said, his breath rushing out of him as he was pulled into another hug. One by one the pack hugged him, all explaining how they had been manipulated at some point or another. Scott could see the blush on Stiles’ cheeks as they all told him how much they loved him, how much they needed him, they’d missed him, they’d grieved for him, how much they couldn’t go on without him. He made the pack a family. He brought them together. Stiles was blushing furiously not used to getting such praise.

“All right, enough now.” Stiles said eventually, sitting back down onto the sofa, his face still pale, dark circles under his eyes. 

“Are you alright? Do you want to go back to sleep?” Scott asked. Stiles shook his head slowly.

“I just want to stay here for a bit if that’s okay? Just know that you guys are here?” 

Scott nodded enthusiastically, not willing to let Stiles out of his sight. 

“How did you guys get me out by the way? I should have still been inside that barrier.” Stiles said a few minutes later.

“Lydia.” Scott said quietly, glancing across at the girl sat in the next seat. “She screamed really, really, loudly until it just kind of shattered.” 

Lydia glanced across at them and Stiles met her eyes.

“You broke down the barrier?” He asked, his voice filled with awe.

“Yeah, I guess I did.” Lydia said sheepishly.

“Lyds…that’s just…wow.” Stiles said at a loss for words.

“What?” Lydia asked, slightly worried.

“Just, that’s really impressive. You should be proud of yourself.” Stiles said, ignoring the fact that the rest of the room seemed to have gone silent. 

“It was important.” Lydia replied. Wasn’t it obvious that she would have done anything to get to Stiles in that moment? Scott huffed with laughter, he’d forgotten how unobservant Stiles could be.

“Why couldn’t any of us break it?” Jason asked, directing the question to Stiles who eventually tore his eyes away from Lydia.

“It was made with the intent of protecting the portal. It should have stayed sealed. The only one able to cross through would be Catherine or me. That way nobody could mess with her spell by stumbling on it. But I’ve never seen it broken before, they use the ash of children’s bones to form the circle, mainly because of the power that they invoke. If I’m honest, it’s damn impressive, not the barrier, although it has it’s moments, but the fact Lyds broke it down, just amazing really. Obviously witches are powerful and Catherine is one of the highest up there, to be able to take down one of her barriers, well it’s pretty mind-blowing.” Stiles rambled, trailing off as he looked back at Lydia, as if seeing her for the first time. 

“Did you say the ash of children’s bones?” Liam asked disgusted.

“Hmm?” Stiles queried, his mind already racing with his next thoughts, “Erm, yeah, I guess I did, but you know, witches dude. Anyway, trust you to only notice that out of the whole entire rant that I just gave about how powerful that barrier was and how badass Lydia is.” Stiles seemingly not noticing the fact that Lydia was blushing slightly.

There was silence for a moment or two before Derek cleared his throat and looked at Stiles.

“You said Catherine is one of the most powerful witches. She’s not dead then? You didn’t kill her with that big explosion?” Derek asked hopefully.

“Unfortunately not, she’s still alive. All I did was send her back to her home. Admittedly she’d going to be feeling it for a while. Gives us a bit of time to plan.” Stiles said forcefully.

“What about her sister?” Derek asked

“Which one?” Stiles replied.

“Margaret, the one whose throat you tore out with your teeth?” Derek asked, grinning.

“She’s most definitely dead.” Stiles said seriously. “The other sister, Elizabeth, however isn’t. And she’s like, well, most powerful witch in the realm apparently. And she wasn’t overly pissed about Margaret, I mean a little bit, but a month of torture and she was bored so not overly pissed. But she is going to be pissed that I shoved Catherine back into their world with her tail between her legs. She’s going to be coming, and for that we need a serious plan.” 

“So she doesn’t mind you killing her sister, but humiliate the other one and it’ll be war?” Leo asked curiously.

“Witches man. I’m going to keep saying it. They’re all fucked in the head. Margaret fucked up, that’s why she’s dead, it was a just punishment really. But Catherine got defeated by a mortal, well, at least temporarily defeated. That won’t stand. If word gets out across the realm that her little sister got beaten by a mortal and Elizabeth didn’t gut him then she won’t be able to hold her position for long. She’ll be a laughing stock.” 

“You said she tortured you for a month.” John said, his voice hollow, the mood of the room suddenly turning sombre.

“Yeah, she did. But it wasn’t that bad. In the scale of things.” Stiles said flippantly.

“How can you say that kid? She tortured you for a month. For defending yourself. How can you say it wasn’t that bad? This is all my fault. If I’d just been stronger…” John said trailing off.

Stiles paused, going to his dad, hugging him gently, as if to reassure him that he was still here.

“I can say it wasn’t that bad because it wasn’t. Elizabeth is straight to the point. She went for straight up pain. It was better in a way. Made things clearer. But it’s not your fault. Nobody could fight against Catherine. She is the master of control. If you’d managed to break her hold she would have snapped your neck, and then she would have found a way to twist it to make it my fault. She is born to manipulate people. I don’t blame you dad. I would never blame you.” Stiles said, hugging his dad as hard as he could.

Lydia

She had been numb when she had seen Stiles lay on the bed upstairs, seeing first-hand the damage his body had suffered, he had been tortured repeatedly, that much was obvious. The tattoos were interesting, the shape and strength to them, she wanted to trace every inch of them, memorize them, but instead all her attention was drawn to the scars that littered his body. She noticed the five small scars across his side that looked like claws had punctured it, the fine white lines across his stomach where there must have been a thousand small cuts, the big scar on his chest where Catherine had stabbed him, where she carved that hateful word into his skin. The faded burn marks down his arms, all greatly covered with tattoos, she knew that they were hiding more scars. He’d been through hell.

As they were turning to leave Lydia caught sight of the scars running up Stiles’ arms from his wrist, they were bright and red and angry, they couldn’t have been done more than a month or two ago. Maybe just before he came home. She tried not to cry when she saw them, in case anyone else saw her, in case they hadn’t noticed them yet. It looked like someone had slit his wrists, or worse he had done it to himself. 

When she’d listened to Bobby explain about the witching realm, about the time difference, she had nearly fallen apart, how could Stiles had survived that? Why didn’t he talk to them about it? That was a stupid question. It was because he thought they didn’t want him. That they’d betrayed him. She’d watched in near silence as Stiles had appeared, as he’d passed out, as Bobby and Malia told them everything they knew. Then she watched as Stiles woke up, she was near the front of the pack, desperate to see his eyes open and know he was okay, so the fact that she landed pretty hard was a given. Still she picked herself up and brushed herself of and listen to Stiles as he talked about Catherine, Margaret and Elizabeth, calmly, casually, as if they weren’t responsible for the fact that Stiles had been tortured.

Lydia had struggled to keep her heartbeat even when Stiles called her Lyds, she hadn’t heard the nickname in so long, it gave her butterflies, although she tried not to show that. Although the way he was praising her, not like he used to, not when they were younger and he thought she was perfection. He was praising her like she’d done something almost impossible and she couldn’t help but blush slightly at the way he looked at her, like he was in awe of her, but also slightly confused at how she’d done it, like he couldn’t quite figure her out. It was the most beautiful thing to see. Which just made her blush more. She turned away before it became obvious that she was staring.

Hearing Stiles say so casually how Elizabeth had tortured him for a month made her so angry, how could he not see how important he was? How could he dismiss torture as anything less? She found herself clenching her fists as he explained to his dad how it was only physical pain, as if that made things better. God she was angry, so angry. She wouldn’t let them touch him. They would never touch him again, not while she still breathed. 

“So how long do you think we have before they turn up?” She asked eventually, already planning on ways in which she could kill them for ever laying a hand on him.

“A couple of days, maybe a week if we’re lucky.” Stiles said quietly, all eyes on him. 

“Okay, well, we’ll fight them off, just like every bad thing that’s come our way before.” Scott said optimistically. Lydia rolled her eyes, she locked eyes with Stiles who had just finished his own eye roll and they couldn’t help but grin at each other. 

“You can’t fight them Scotty, you’ve met Catherine right? You know that powerful witch who stopped you from moving, and of course, she’ll be bringing her even more powerful older sister. And what are you going to do? Growl at her?” Stiles said condescendingly.

Scott looked down at his feet sheepishly, embarrassment causing his cheeks to flush red.

“Alright, so what’s the actual plan then Stiles?” Lydia asked, trying to ignore the fact that he was running his fingers over the scars she knew were at his wrists, even if they were now hidden from them. 

“I’ve got a few ideas.” He said, stopping fidgeting and looking at the people in the room surrounding him. He rubbed his temples, his mind obviously racing. Lydia smiled gently, she knew Stiles would figure this out, he always did. 

Derek was looking at Stiles oddly.

“You smell like fear.” He said suddenly without preamble. Lydia felt her heart clench as she turned to look at Stiles.

“Damn your wolfy powers.” Stiles replied sarcastically. He sighed, “Of course I’m scared. You would be too if you knew anything about them.” 

“It’s not that kind of fear.” Derek insisted. Stiles paused, taking a deep breath before glaring at Derek.

“What do I smell of now?” He said.

“Anger…” Derek paused, “And electricity.”

“Wow, two out of two with those wolf senses. Yeah I’m angry, at you, and that electric smell, that’s my power building up, gathering under the surface, just waiting for me to zap you. So how about you don’t annoy me and let me think.” Stiles growled.

“Fine.” Derek replied, “But you still smell of fear too.” He said seriously, determined to have the final word. Stiles just rolled his eyes. 

Stiles leaned back against the back of the sofa and closed his eyes.

Stiles

Stiles hated this, hated the knowledge that he’d finally put his demons to rest, finally got his family back, and now he was going to lose them. He had a few options available, none of them good. He could run, drag the pack with him, hope that they ran far enough and long enough that Catherine and Elizabeth gave up. He didn’t think that would happen though. He could offer himself up to them, hope that they’d kill him and spare his pack, or they’d take him back there and still spare his pack. He nearly snorted at the thought of either of them ever showing any mercy. 

Which left him with the final option. To fight. Even though he knew it would end bloody. So long as he protected his pack it would be okay. So long as they survived. He didn’t deserve to. He was too broken. He’d done awful things, things that he wouldn’t ever forgive himself for. If he could just protect them, one final time, then it would be worth it. His fingers traced the invisible scars on his wrists, knowing that they were there even if the skin felt smooth under his fingers.

He visualised the symbol in his mind, the one he had to believe would be enough, if only he could get them all to agree to it. He cracked open his eyes, not sure how long he had been thinking things through. There were a few whispered conversations throughout the room, which suggested it had been longer than he thought. He cleared his throat, waiting until he had everyone’s attention.

“How do you guys feel about getting a tattoo?” He asked quickly, praying they wouldn’t argue with him. He earned a few curious looks, he should maybe give them a bit more of an explanation, but how could he word it without telling them the whole plan? 

“Will it help us fight them?” Dean asked from the corner of the room. Stiles nodded quickly, glad that Dean hadn’t asked why. “Fine with me.” Dean said seriously. “So long as it’s not a fluffy pink unicorn or some crap.” Stiles grinned.

“I can do that for you after if you really want.” He smiled.

“Not a chance. I’ll get your tattoo. If you think it will make a difference. But otherwise no inking me. I think you’ve got enough for all of us.” Dean quipped. Stiles blushed.

“Oh, right, you guys saw those?” He asked nervously.

The whole room nodded and Stiles grimaced, so much for keeping them a secret. 

“We saw the scars too.” Scott said quietly and Stiles felt himself sink into the sofa, of course they’d seen them. He must have been on really low power if that spell had collapsed.

“Right. Yeah. Sure.” Stiles said tightly. “Okay. That’s fine. So. Tattoos. Who wants one?” 

“What will they do?” Percy asked from the chair next to Bobby.

“Erm, well, it’s kind of an added protection. I hope it means that they won’t be able to hurt you. I mean, they would still probably be able to control you, but they wouldn’t be able to hurt you, or make you hurt each other.” Stiles said quickly, hoping that they wouldn’t ask any more questions.

“Sure thing buddy. Let’s do it.” Scott said enthusiastically, taking his t-shirt off. “Where we doing this?” 

Stiles grimaced. “Okay, well give me five minutes. I need to just get some ink together. Just point me to the kitchen.” 

As soon as Stiles got to the kitchen he got to work, thankfully the ink he used was a very special combination, one that would stay on the wolves skin, he was glad about that, he didn’t want to face the smell of burnt skin again. He pulled his small supply out of his back pocket and poured it into a bowl encouraging the mixture to expand so that he would have enough for the whole pack. The next part was the hard part, he cast a quick spell so that the wolves wouldn’t smell what he was about to do, ignoring the fact that he already felt unsteady on his feet. He needed to build up his magical reserves. He needed to protect his pack first. He cut his hand quickly, spilling his blood into the ink, having to believe that it would be enough. He sealed the cut with a thought, dropped the smell spell and then hovered over the ink. 

“Please.” He whispered. Belief had helped him to accomplish things he never would have dreamed of before. He had to believe that this would work too. This would protect them too. If it came to it. A last resort.

“Alright Scotty. You’re up.” Stiles shouted as Scott walked into the kitchen. Scott sat in the kitchen chair, looking slightly nervous as the rest of the pack gathered to watch. 

“It needs to be as close to your heart as possible okay?” Stiles advised. Scott nodded, “Front or back?” 

“Front.” Scott said decisively, not caring that he was about to get an unknown tattoo from Stiles. “This best look better than your usual artwork.” Scott joked. Stiles grinned.

“No faith Scotty. I’ve improved since fourth grade.” Scott chuckled.

“I hope so.” 

“Okay, try to stay as still as possible. It’ll probably tingle a little, but it shouldn’t hurt. Let me know if it does.” 

Scott nodded and then watched as Stiles dipped his hand in the bowl of ink on the table. Stiles’ whole palm was covered in ink and Scott really hoped he wasn’t about to get a handprint across his chest. Stiles placed his hand on his chest and Scott tensed at the cold ink on his skin. Stiles closed his eyes, focused on the image he had conjured up, the symbol of protection, he thought of Scott, all the small little things that Stiles knew about him, that made Scott such an important part of him. It looked a little like the dark half of the yin and yang symbol, but longer, more of a point than a circle, and about the size of his thumb. Stiles concentrated, feeling the ink begin to move to his command. 

Scott let out a small breath as the ink took hold and when Stiles removed his hand he was glad to see it had come out exactly as he had wanted. His hand was completely free of ink, all of it in Scott’s tattoo.

“How do you feel?” Stiles said, resting a hand on Scott’s shoulder. 

“That was it?” Scott looked down and marvelled at the simple tattoo on his chest. “Stiles, it’s beautiful.” 

Stiles gave him a small smile. “It’ll do the job. That’s the important thing. Alright who’s next?”

There was a small scuffle as a queue formed out of the kitchen door. Stiles grinned as Dean sat in the chair, Stiles was surprised to see Dean already had a tattoo and he raised his eyebrows slightly in question.

“Stops demonic possession.” Dean explained quietly.

“Impressive. You want back then?” Stiles asked.

“Could you do it next to it? Would it work there?” Dean asked. Stiles looked closely at the tattoo.

“Just underneath and to the right?” 

“Fine with me.” Dean replied. Stiles dipped his hand in the ink again, placed his hand against Dean’s chest, closed his eyes, concentrated on Dean, everything he knew about him, everything he thought about him and willed the ink into place. 

“Thanks Stiles.” Dean said a few minutes later when Stiles removed his hand. Stiles just nodded, he was surprised just how much this normally small spell was taking out of him, admittedly he usually just did it on himself and he’d never done it on another person before, but still, it shouldn’t be this exhausting. Slowly he worked his way through the pack, repeating the process over and over, pouring all of his belief into the spell, believing that this would work. He stopped once or twice to get a glass of water, trying to clear the fuzziness in his head. His dad hadn’t been overly happy about getting a tattoo but he knew it was necessary. Melissa had asked for it on her back and Stiles had obliged, as had Malia and Miller. The pack retired to the living room after he had completed their tattoos, giving him a bit of space to finish the last few. He could hear them laughing about something and his heart swelled. This was his pack, he was home.

Eventually there was only Lydia left and she sat down in the chair nervously. 

“Alright Lyds, front or back?” Stiles asked, trying to ignore the fact that Lydia looked apprehensive. 

“Back I guess.” Lydia said after a moment, before turning her back to him and pulling her t-shirt over her shoulders so that he could access her shoulder blade easily. Stiles heart rate was going through the roof, Lydia was beautiful, he’d always thought she was amazing, and then there was the thing was the barrier which was almost beyond comprehension, and now he was going to be laying his hand across her bare back, he was going to be using his magic on her. 

He hesitated a moment and then placed his hand firmly against her smooth skin. He closed his eyes and focussed on the protection spell, focussed on Lydia, on his belief that she would be safe. He was exhausted and the spell seemed to be taking longer than usual and when he removed his hand he was surprised to see that the symbol was a little different than all the others. It would still work, maybe more so than the others, but it had a few extra lines to it, making it look more like a small flower than anything else. 

“Okay. All done I guess.” Stiles said after a moment. Lydia turned to look over her shoulder at him. 

“You don’t sound overly sure?” She queried.

“Nah. It’s finished. I’m just tired that’s all.” He said honestly, heading to the sink and getting more water. He knew he needed to rest if he wanted any chance of defeating them, but he also knew he needed every minute he had to plan their fight.

“Stiles, can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” Lydia asked quietly. Stiles nodded, glancing to the door where he could still hear the laughter from the living room. Lydia got out of the chair and came and leaned next to him against the kitchen counter.

“Earlier, when you were out of it, I saw your tattoos and I saw your scars.” Lydia stated, grasping his arm lightly and pulling up his sleeve. She ran her fingers over where the invisible scars were.

“What happened here?” She asked almost silently, as if she was afraid to hear the answer. Stiles met her eyes, knew that she wouldn’t demand the answer from him, but for some reason he found himself wanting to tell her. 

“I was escaping. I’d gotten away from Elizabeth and I was running for a portal, even though I’d tried a hundred times before and I’d never made it, I just couldn’t stop trying. I knew I wasn’t going to make it. I knew they’d catch me and take me back and torture me and I honestly didn’t think I would make it any longer, that I’d break. And then they’d kill you, all of you. I’d heard Margaret and Catherine talking months earlier. They’d said that they couldn’t kill me, if I died, the spell would be sealed with my death. They’d never get near the nemeton or Beacon Hills. They couldn’t kill me. They had to break me first.” He paused, worried how Lydia was handling this information, but she was just staring at him waiting for the rest of the story. “I grabbed a knife, I was just going to go straight for my heart, but I was scared I would mess it up, that I wouldn’t have the strength to do it. So I went with my wrists. I thought I had enough time. I thought I’d bleed out before they found me. I didn’t. Faye found me and Catherine healed up the cuts, not enough to stop them from scarring, just enough to make sure I didn’t die. That’s the way she always did it. As they were pulling me back towards her house, we passed by the portal, I was so close, so close to getting home,” He paused for a minute, trying to hold back the tears at the memory, “I was fighting her with everything I had, and I managed to knock over another witch, she got up cursing and shouting at Catherine that her pets shouldn’t be out in public if she couldn’t control them. They started to argue, then they started to fight. I managed to kick out of Faye’s grip, she tore open the cuts as I escaped her and then I fell through the portal.” Stiles glanced down at his wrists, allowing the scars to become visible for a moment. “I think that’s the reason I got through. I’d tried before, but I didn’t know the portals needed a blood sacrifice if a human wanted to travel through. The fact that I was bleeding when I went through, I think that’s the only reason I got home. If Faye hadn’t have split them open again, I think I would have still been stuck there.” He sucked in a breath, terrified at that thought. “I healed them up as best as I could when I woke up in the woods, but I wasn’t at my best, I’d lost a lot of blood. I passed out and when I woke up again I realized where I was and I started to head back here.”

Stiles glanced at Lydia to see she had tears forming in her eyes. 

“Thank you Stiles.” She said a minute later and the confusion must have been obvious on his face. She wiped away the few tears that had spilled down her cheeks. 

“Thank you for telling me. Thank you for been brave enough to do that. For wanting to save us even when you thought we all hated you.” 

“It wasn’t exactly brave, I was cowering in the back of a shed, convinced I was about to become vampire chow.”

“It was. You are so brave Stiles, all the time. But please, don’t ever do anything like that again okay?” Lydia asked. 

“What? Falling through a portal? I’ll definitely try not to.” Stiles joked trying to lighten the mood.

“No you idiot. Don’t ever sacrifice yourself for us again. It’s not worth it.”

“It was to me.” Stiles muttered.

“Don’t you get it? Stiles, I would literally go out of my freaking mind if you died.” She smiled shyly at him, hoping he’d recognize her words, and of course he did. He’d used those exact words to her a few years earlier, right around the time he’d declared his unrequited love for her. Oh yeah, that was embarrassing. But what was that supposed to mean? Was she trying to say what he thought she might be trying to say? His internal monologue was cut short and he didn’t have time to reply when suddenly there was a sudden shout from the living room.

He glanced at Lydia, hoping she would realize that this conversation wasn’t over and then they both rushed through to the living room.

John

John had watched the determination on his son’s face as he gave them all a tattoo. He couldn’t help but feel admiration and pride, his son had overcome the most horrendous of situations, had learned from them, come out stronger than any of them could have imagined. He wasn’t sure that he had ever been prouder. 

The atmosphere was calm, relaxed, despite the fact that they knew the witches were coming for them sooner or later, but right now, in this moment they were all okay and that was all that mattered.

So when Bobby got to his feet and suddenly pulled out his gun and trained it on Dean, John couldn’t help the shout of surprise.

“Bobby, what the hell are you doing?” Dean asked as Stiles and Lydia appeared from the kitchen. Bobby didn’t look right, his movements were almost mechanical. And though his finger looked to be tightening on the trigger, it was also twitching dangerously. John pulled out his own gun and aimed it at Bobby.

“Bobby, put the gun down this second.” He ordered, hoping his tone of authority would make the man put his gun down.

“I can’t.” Bobby growled, the effort behind those words made Stiles gasp before taking a step forward. 

“But you can’t pull the trigger either can you Elizabeth?” Stiles taunted. And this time it was John’s turn to gasp. “Always trying to show off, never actually able to finish the job are you?”

“You shit. I’ll get you. I’ll make last time look like child’s play.” Bobby spat out, his face contorting as the words were pulled from his throat.

“Last time was child’s play.” Stiles laughed. “You’re powerless here. Pathetic. Now leave.” Stiles demanded.

“You don’t order me mortal. You have no power over me.” Bobby growled.

Stiles scowled, the whole room crackled with electricity and John felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He looked at his son who looked oddly calm, his eyes glowing bright amber with power, he looked dangerous, and John felt a sigh of relief, Stiles would beat her. Stiles was powerful and dangerous, these witches wouldn’t stand a chance.

“I warned you Elizabeth.” Stiles said before taking a step towards Bobby and slamming his palm into the man’s chest. A bright light shot out and filled the room and Bobby was knocked a step backwards. He staggered slightly and then Stiles caught him. 

“You okay Bobby?” Stiles asked concerned.

“Witches!” Bobby cursed. “I can’t wait to kill the lot of them.” He grumbled.

“Join the queue.” Stiles said sending a small grin his way. 

“So they’re here then?” Scott asked. 

“No.” Stiles said quietly. “It was a message, a threat of what Elizabeth can do. What she will do when she gets here, it won’t be long. They’ll be here tomorrow I’m sure.” His voice was weak, shaky and John wasn’t surprised when Stiles found the nearest chair and sunk down into it before his legs gave out.

“You okay Stiles?” John asked stepping towards him. Stiles nodded at him reassuringly through tired eyes. 

“Fine. Just a bit worn out. I’ll be fine.” Stiles said to him. 

“You should rest.” John said quietly, looking at his exhausted son. 

“I will do. Just not yet.” Stiles replied. “I’ve got things to do if we’re going to have any chance against them.” Stiles said getting to his feet. 

“You won’t be able fight them if you’re too exhausted to stand.” John advised in his best parental tone.

“I know. I’ll sleep soon. But there’s things I need to do and now is the only time to do it.” Stiles said slowly.

“Well, what can we do to help?” Dean said looking at his cousin with concern. Stiles shook his head slowly. 

“Unless you’ve started doing magic, nothing. You lot should go to sleep. I’ll just do a few things and then I’ll sleep.” Stiles said, gesturing to go outside.

There were a few grumbles about not been able to help but eventually the whole pack headed to their rooms upstairs and John watched his son for a moment before nodding in agreement and heading upstairs. His son was a grown up, so he might only be eighteen, but his son hadn’t been a child in so long, ever since his mother died, Stiles had been taking care of him, taking care of everyone. He’d seen such awful things, survived such awful things, his eyes told John that he’d never forget any of it. His son was an adult and John had to accept he couldn’t tell Stiles what to do, hadn’t been able to tell him what to do for so long. He just had to accept that Stiles knew what he was doing, it went against every one of John’s instincts but this wasn’t something he could protect Stiles from, even though he would do anything necessary if it meant that he could. He gave Stiles a pat on the shoulder before heading up to bed.

Stiles

He went outside taking a deep breath of the fresh air before taking a few steps before the woods. He had a lot of work to do if he had any chance of not having to use his last resort. He sat down in the middle of a small clearing and closed his eyes. Before he could do anything else he needed to draw some energy, he slowed his heart beat, breathed in and out slowly, felt his connection to the world around him open slowly. He’d only done this a few times before and every time it had been in the witching realm. It wasn’t like there was anything living or healthy in that world, so when he felt the energy flowing in the large oak nearby; he was nearly floored by it. He had never felt anything with such strength before. It was an amazing feeling, his energy levels suddenly flying through the ceiling, he felt like he could do anything. He stopped drawing energy after a minute, not wanting to cause any damage to the ancient tree. He silently sent his thanks, surprised at how easy that had seemed. He strode through the woods, placing wards, casting out spells that would cause Catherine and Elizabeth harm if they were careless. He didn’t think they would be that stupid but it was worth a shot. 

There was one more thing he needed to do if he wanted his last resort to work, if it came to that of course. He pulled out a little bit of ink, spread it smoothly on his palm and then placed it over a blank piece of skin near his heart. This would work.

The moon shone brightly on him as he trudged through the preserve, he lost track of time as he formed a protective circle around the house. It was at least three miles wide, he prayed that it would give him enough notice when they came. He scouted out a clearing inside the circle, deciding that this would be the best place to fight, when they came, this is where he would make his stand. 

He thought out every possible outcome, predicted how he thought they would attack, how he would fight back. He had no possible chance of beating them both at once, he had to split them up. He had to separate them and pray he could kill one of them, maybe his pack would be able to distract one of them for long enough for him to take care of the other one. 

It was a crap plan, he knew that, but he didn’t know what else to do. They were coming, there was no stopping that. The only thing he could do was meet them head on. And he always had the last resort, the spell that would protect his family for the rest of their lives.

He finally made it back to the house just as the sun was rising and sat down on the bottom step all his energy suddenly gone. He wanted to head back to the clearing from earlier but he was suddenly too tired to even stand up. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the side of the house.

He was woken up abruptly as somebody stepped in front of him, blocking his face from the warmth of the sun. He opened his eyes and saw Derek standing in front of him, a scowl on his face and his arms folded across his chest. Stiles stared at him blearily.

“What’s up Derek?” Stiles asked, his voice dry.

“How long have you been out here?” Derek asked quietly.

“I don’t know.” Stiles said looking around him, slowly standing and stretching. “I guess all night.” 

“Go to bed Stiles. You need sleep.” Derek said seriously

“I was asleep. Until you came and interrupted that.” He said, rubbing at the ache in his neck. 

“Come on Stiles, you are the best weapon we have. We need you to be at your best.” Derek said, starting to pull Stiles towards the house, as soon as they stepped through the door Stiles could smell the bacon cooking and his stomach rumbled. But the sofa was calling to him. He slumped down into it and Derek glanced back over his shoulder.

“Stiles? Don’t you want some food?” 

“Later. Bring it to me when it’s done.” He said his eyes already slipping closed.

Lydia

She came down the stairs quietly, she was so glad that she’d insisted on soundproofing her room. She’d woken up screaming, she’d dreamt of Stiles dying, dreamt of him slitting his wrists, of his blood spilling over the ground, she’d knelt next to his body, held him as the light faded from his eyes, cried over him, begged him to stay with her. She screamed, screamed until she had woken herself up, tears streaming down her face. 

It had taken her nearly ten minutes for her to calm down enough, ten minutes for her to recognise it was a dream and hadn’t really happened. She’d gone to the bathroom and showered quickly, washing away the appearance of her nightmare. She’d got dressed in a pair of soft jeans and a t-shirt, knowing that there was a good chance she was going to end up fighting for her life today, usually she’d go with a dress and heels, but she’d tripped one too many times in the preserve before so she knew casual was the right way to go.

She looked across the living room, saw Stiles fast asleep, his skin pale against the dark sofa, she felt like she could finally breath, seeing him lying there, seeing him breathing. He was okay. That was what mattered, what finally released the ball of worry in her chest. She walked past him quietly, afraid to wake him up, knowing he needed his sleep if they wanted any chance of winning. She stepped into the kitchen, seeing John, Scott, Sam, Dean and Derek were already in there. 

“Morning.” Scott said quietly. Lydia nodded to him in greeting before pouring herself a glass of orange juice and sitting down at the counter.

“Do we know what the plan is yet?” She asked without preamble and watched as they all turned to look at the living room.

“Stiles has a plan. We don’t know what we’re dealing with here, we’re going to have to listen to him, what he wants us to do.” Scott replied, sounding more mature than Lydia had heard before. The others in the room nodded in agreement. 

“I’m worried about this Elizabeth bitch.” Sam said, “I know Catherine is powerful, don’t get me wrong, but Elizabeth practically possessed Bobby when she wasn’t even in this realm. And Stiles nearly died fighting Catherine. How’s he going to beat Elizabeth?”

“We’ll find a way.” Dean said reassuringly. “We’re not losing Stiles. Not again. Whatever it takes. They don’t get their hands on him again.” 

Lydia and John nodded quickly.

“It’s still hard to think we’re going to kill them though.” Scott said quietly, earning a few glares, “Hey,” He said holding his hands up in defence. “I’m not saying don’t do it, of course I understand we have to kill them. It’s just we haven’t had to do it before. We’ve always found a way around killing.” 

“Wrong Scott. You’ve always found a way around killing. But sometimes, monsters have to die. What Catherine did to Stiles, what she still wants to do to him, she deserves to die, and if that’s what it takes to protect Stiles then I’ll do it a thousand times over and still have a clear conscience.” Dean said suddenly. Voicing Lydia’s exacts thoughts.

The rest of the pack stumbled through to the kitchen eventually and a few hours later Stiles dragged himself in, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, not seeming to care that his hair was sticking up in several directions. He looked gorgeous, even though he still looked tired. 

“Morning.” He yawned, stretching his body, his t-shirt riding up slightly. Lydia felt herself almost purr in appreciation. She also noticed that Scott was staring at her oddly, his eyes wide in disbelief, as if he’d only just realized how much Lydia fancied Stiles. God, Scott could be so oblivious sometimes. 

“Erm, yeah, hi Stiles.” Scott said, clearing his throat, tearing his gaze from Lydia and finally looking at Stiles. Stiles looked to Scott then, noticing the odd tone in his voice, actually bothering to open his eyes, sudden confusion as to why half the pack was staring at him.

“Have I got something on my face?” Stiles said, going over to the sink and splashing his face with cold water. Lydia tried not to look at him bent over the sink. It didn’t work. She knew Scott was still looking at her but she pretended not to notice and scooted to sit down at a seat, glaring at the table and determined not to look at Stiles again until she could get her hormones under control.

Stiles stood up, more colour to his face now that he had splashed it with cold water. He grabbed a piece of toast and bacon and started eating it, apparently waiting for normal conversation to return. 

“So, we were wondering about the plan?” Malia said without hesitation. 

“Oh, yeah, sure, course.” Stiles said, brushing crumbs from his palms and pulling up a chair around the table. He waved his hand and suddenly a holographic map of the forest appeared hovering over the table and the whole pack gasped in shock. “Okay, so here.” Stiles pointed zooming in on the map so they could all see where he meant. “This is going to be the best place to fight them I think. I’ve put a protective circle around us, they’ll have to break it to get in. Of course they’ll break it pretty easily, but as soon as they do, I’ll know, which means we have a bit of warning.” He paused, seemingly getting distracted looking at the map. John cleared his throat and Stiles looked around the table, “Yeah, right, sorry, so the clearing. It’s where we’re going to get our best shot. The best plan is to split them up, the way the trees divide this clearing up means that should be pretty easy. You guys are going to hold Catherine off while I get rid of Elizabeth, once that’s done then I’ll come help you guys with Catherine.” 

There was silence around the table as they stared at Stiles in shock.

“That’s the plan?” Jason asked quietly.

“I know. It’s shit. But there aren’t any other options.” Stiles replied quietly, he took in the nervous faces around the table. “Look, I get it, if you guys don’t want to fight that’s fine. I’m not asking you to. But they’re coming. Whether you like it or not. I’m fighting them. I can’t outrun them. Maybe you guys can. If you want to then run. I wouldn’t blame you. Don’t look back. Maybe they won’t bother coming after you. I’ll try and keep them away from you.”

“No.” Lydia shouted, startling the pack as she slammed her hand down on the table. “That isn’t an option. Not for me any way. I’m fighting. I’d rather die today than spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder and knowing I left my friend to those monsters.” There was silence around the table. Heads nodding in agreement.

“I wasn’t meaning we run.” Jason said after a moment. “I just wish we had a better defence. I don’t want to see you guys get hurt.” 

“You shouldn’t.” Stiles said firmly. “The protective charm I’ve given you, I’ve placed a few more around the clearing. So long as you stay near there they shouldn’t be able to control you, they shouldn’t be able to use any magic on you. It should put them on the back foot, instead of using magic to attack they’ll have to use it to defend, they haven’t had to do it in a long time. We have a chance of beating them.” Stiles assured them.

“Okay, so what do we need to know about how to fight them?” Derek asked.

“Don’t go for the direct attack. They’ll expect that. Don’t look them in the eyes, they can mesmerize you. My charm won’t hold up against that. Don’t do it. Other than that, go for the kill. Don’t show any mercy. They won’t show you any.” Stiles informed them. “Lyds, you should be able to use your scream, knock her over, keep her off balance, she’s not as fast as the wolves, you should be able to take her out, or at least keep her occupied. Other than that, do what you usually do.” 

Malia cleared her throat, “You should tell them about the other thing, just in case it’s an issue.” She said looking at Stiles carefully. Lydia and the rest of the pack looked to him in confusion, he hung his head, choosing to look at the table instead. 

“Yeah. I know.” He replied to Malia, his voice quiet. Lydia knew she didn’t want to hear what was coming. “Catherine can change her face.”

“We know. We saw her.” Dean said, his voice still confused as to how this was a big reveal. 

“Yeah. You did. But she can change it to anything, to look like anyone. If any of you lose sight of her for a second she’ll use that fact to confuse you, she could look like any one of you. She’s had plenty of practice.” 

“What?” Lydia asked stunned. “What the hell do you mean she’s had plenty of practice looking like us?” Not caring that half the table flinched from the anger in her voice. Stiles shifted uncomfortably on his seat, still not looking at any of them.

“It was one of her favourite things.” He said after a minute of silence. “She enjoyed wearing your faces when she,” He paused, evidently struggling to get the words out and Lydia felt her heart shattering, she knew what he was about to say, she didn’t want to know, didn’t want to hear it. “When she tortured me.” Stiles finished quietly.

John

There was silence in the kitchen as they processed Stiles words. John felt like he couldn’t breathe, the knowledge that his son had been tortured had been hard enough, to know that Catherine had tortured him while she wore their faces, the thought made him sick, he thought he was going to be sick, the whole room was spinning around him. He couldn’t breathe.

“Dad.” Stiles said, John wasn’t sure how many times Stiles had said that already, John had lost time, Stiles was in front of him now, not sat down at the table where he should have been. Stiles had his hands resting on John’s shoulders as if to keep him steady. Tears were spilling down Johns cheeks. He couldn’t stop them. All he could imagine was his son screaming in agony and his hands were the ones causing it. How could Stiles even bare to look at them? How could he be around them? He couldn’t believe how brave and strong his son was. He had noticed it before of course, but never like this, never realized just how deep that strength ran. 

“Dad, it’s okay.” Stiles said, his voice seeming to come from far away. John eventually got his breathing back under control, managed to look up at Stiles, see the worry on his face. Pulled him close and held onto him for dear life. 

“I’m sorry Stiles. I’m so sorry.” John sobbed.

“It’s not your fault dad. I promise you. It’s not.” Stiles said, holding tightly onto John.

“How can you face us? After all that, how can you look at us and not see her?” John whispered. Stiles sighed heavily.

“Most of the time I’m fine. She could never get your voices right. It’s easy when I’m properly awake. I can tell the difference. But when I just wake up, when I’ve been,” He paused gathering himself, “when I’ve been dreaming about her, it’s easy to get confused. That’s why Malia talked to me yesterday, she knew I needed to hear her voice. If I can hear you talking, it’s really easy to tell the difference.” Stiles said, feeling as John relaxed slightly.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with all this Stiles, and I’m going to kill that bitch.” John growled

“You’ll have to get in line.” Sam said loud enough for the whole table to hear. “Neither of them are leaving here alive.” He said his eyes flashing with anger. 

Stiles let out a half laugh, half sob and John clung tighter to him. 

“Thanks guys.” He said, a small smile on his lips. “Just remember, don’t let her out of your sight.” He added as a warning.

They spent the rest of the morning planning, Stiles alternating between scoffing more food and trying to improve the plan so that they had as much advantage as possible. In the early afternoon Stiles excused himself from the kitchen and John followed him outside.

“Where are you going?” John asked curiously as his son took a few steps to the edge of the woods.

“I need to power up a bit.” Stiles said grimly obviously recognising the confusion on his father’s face he continued, “I can draw energy from the things surrounding me. It gives me a power boost. If we’ve got any chance of defeating them then I need as much power as I can get, which means I need to sit down here and get a bit of energy together.” Stiles said as he sunk slowly to the floor.

“Could you take it from me? Would that help?” John asked, wanting to help his son in any way possible. Stiles turned to look at him quickly with shock in his eyes.

“No. Never.” Stiles said quickly. “It’s very easy to go too far, I could kill you if I did that. Don’t ever think of it again.” He ordered and John felt regret, because even in this he couldn’t help his son.

“Stiles. If it comes to it, if you need it, you can take it. I don’t care if it kills me. So long as it means you’re safe.” John said sitting down next to his son. Stiles looked at him with wet eyes.

“No dad. The only reason I’m still alive is because I had to protect you guys. If I killed you, well, dad, I couldn’t, I couldn’t handle it okay? I just can’t. I can’t think of losing you. Losing any of you. It can’t happen.” Stiles said, his voice cracking slightly.

“Okay.” John held onto Stiles on the ground. “Okay son. It’s fine. I understand. But I wish I could help you. I wish I didn’t feel so useless.” Stiles knocked their shoulders together.

“You’re not useless dad, you never have been and you never will be. It’s just today, we’re going to be playing to my strengths instead of the packs.” Stiles grinned. “Now, if you’re staying with me, you need to be quiet for a minute so I can concentrate.” 

John laughed, “That’s the first time you’ve ever told me to be quiet, usually you’re the one making all the noise.” Stiles grins at him and winks before closing his eyes and going still.

John sits with him, not willing to move and disrupt Stiles. Instead he sits and he does something he hasn’t done in years. He prays. He prays to whatever is out there to watch out for his son, he asks Claudia to look after them, after Stiles, after him, after their pack, their family. He tries to believe with everything he has that this is going to be enough, that they are all going to come out of this unscathed. That he is going to get to watch Stiles grow up, marry the girl of his dreams, that he’s going to see his grandkids running around his feet with their father’s hyperactive attitude that drives them all crazy sometimes. He doesn’t know how long he sits there with his eyes closed, feeling the heat of Stiles next to him, until he hears Stiles clearing his throat and John turn to look at him.

His son is staring at him with amusement, there is colour in his cheeks, his eyes are almost glowing, he looks mischievous, his hair windswept, his whole body seeming to pulse. It’s only as John looks closely that he can see Stiles’ skin is literally pulsing, the tattoos appearing and then fading slowly, glowing against his skin in multiple colours, a rainbow across his skin. John can’t help but reach out and trace one of them. Stiles grins at him in return.

“How are you doing that?” John asked turning to Stiles.

“I’m not really sure.” Stiles says, he finally gets control of the tattoos and they disappear completely. “I think it’s a bit of a power high. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so powerful.” Stiles said, his cheeks flushed. John studied his son again, Stiles might have got his tattoos to vanish but now his skin was glowing, like literally glowing, not really obviously, but enough so that Stiles looked healthier than John had ever seen him, a grin on his face that he couldn’t seem to control either. 

“So you feel okay?” John asked, a little nervous that Stiles might spontaneously combust.

“Yeah. I feel good. Still nervous of course, and a little worried it’s all going to go to hell, but generally, other than the fact witches are trying to kill us, I feel good.” Stiles rambled, a grin on his face. 

They headed back towards the house, Stiles almost fell face first when he tripped over a root but John caught him by the arm and held him upright. It was nice to know his son was still there, he was just a little less fragile than he had been, but no less clumsy.

They strolled through the door and across the hallway into the living room. The rest of the pack were scattered around the house, none of them willing to go any distance because they knew that Catherine and Elizabeth would be here soon. Derek was sat on one of the sofas, listening to Sam as he told them about a hunt they’d been on when they were younger. Stiles smiled as he listened to the story before excusing himself to the kitchen. 

He came back a minute later clutching a piece of paper in his hand. Stiles saw John look at the paper and winked at him before disappearing through the door and to the rest of the house.

John sat down opposite Bobby who was cleaning one of his guns and John watched the man. It was odd that a month ago he had never met Bobby, and yet now there was a strong friendship between them. Maybe it was because they were both father’s trying to protect their sons. Maybe it was because Bobby had seen more evil than John ever had and recognized that the pack wasn’t evil. Maybe it was because Bobby had a sharp wit and took no shit from anyone and John respected that. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he did know they were friends. He wanted to tell Bobby how thankful he was for all his help, but he didn’t want it to sound like a goodbye. He knew that most of the pack must have been thinking the same thing. That today they would fight, and some of them might not come back. John felt sick at that thought, but it was the truth all the same. 

He was afraid. No, he was terrified. He would rather die than have to live through losing any of the pack. He hoped that they would live, but the odds were against them, and he’d rather it was him than Stiles, than Sam or Dean or Scott, or any of the pack. They were his family. He’d die to protect them if he had to.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Bobby said from across the table. John shrugged knowing that most of the pack would be listening in.

“Just thinking about later. About what we could lose.” John said briefly. Bobby raised his eyebrow in question.

“You know the Argents did this thing that when they were going into battle they always made sure that everyone knew how they felt. So that if the worst happened, if one of them didn’t make it, the important people knew how they felt.” John replied. Bobby snorted.

“Well I’ve got to say John, that’s a load of bollocks for me. If the people are important to me, they already know how I feel. I don’t need to go getting or gloomy over something that might happen. I’d rather go in knowing I was going to beat the bitch with my family at my side.” Bobby said, his voice turning kind as he finished. John felt a little better.

John heard glass shattering, the sound of someone falling and then Lydia calling out to Stiles. He rushed to the noise, Stiles was kneeling on the ground of the hallway between the kitchen and one of the games rooms. His skin was ashen, his hands trembling. Most of the pack was already there surrounding Stiles. John pushed forward, locking eyes with his son.

“They’re here.” Stiles whispered into the silence.

Lydia

Lydia was in one of the back rooms talking to Scott. He’d cornered her a little while earlier and was now staring at her like she’d grown a second head. 

“Just how long have you fancied Stiles?” He said quickly. Lydia blushed.

“That’s not really any of your business.” She replied.

“It is. Stiles is my best friend.” Scott argued. “If you’re going to mess him around…” Scott warned. Lydia fought the urge to laugh.

“I’m not going to mess him around. I’m not even sure if I’m going to tell him. I guess maybe once this is over then I’ll talk to him.” She said quietly.

“You shouldn’t wait.” Scott said, “If you love him, and I’m pretty sure you do, then you shouldn’t wait. Things could happen today. You might not get another chance.” 

“Don’t talk like that.” Lydia snapped. “We’re all coming out of this today, we’re all going to survive.” 

“It doesn’t always happen that way Lydia you know that.” Scott advised.

“I can’t think of it any other way. I can’t lose any of this pack. I won’t. If I think for a moment about what could happen, I’ll be too scared to do anything. I need to believe we’re all going to be okay, do you understand that?” She snapped. Scott nodded his head solemnly.

“Bobby and John are talking about the Argents.” Scott said suddenly. “About how they had a tradition of telling others they loved them before going off to battle.” Lydia blinked quickly at the mention of Allison, she wouldn’t think about her, not today, not when she needed to focus on those still with her. 

“Knock, knock.” Stiles said, knocking on the door as he stepped into the room. “Not interrupting anything am I?” He said casually. 

Lydia and Scott both shook their heads, looking at Stiles, he looked good, he had a glow about him, his eyes were lit up with a million emotions; he looked ready to fight.

“Can I talk to you Lyds?” Stiles said motioning to the hallway. Lydia nodded quickly, still slightly shocked at the sight of Stiles. Stiles grinned quickly at Scott and Lydia felt her heart skip a beat, she’d missed that smile.

She stepped into the hallway and Stiles shut the door behind him. He held a piece of paper in his hands.

“I know the wolves are all still listening in so I’ll make it quick.” Stiles said to her, his voice serious, she was pretty sure he wasn’t about to declare his undying love to her. He held out the paper. “Don’t read it. Not yet. You’ll know if the time comes.” 

“Well that’s not at all mysterious.” Lydia said sullenly. Stiles grinned at her.

“A man has to have some mystery right?” He teased, Lydia smiled. She should tell him, she really should, but what if he didn’t feel the same way? What if it distracted him from the upcoming battle? She couldn’t risk it, not yet. 

“I guess.” She replied, tucking it into her pocket, her mind already trying to figure out what it would say. “How am I going to know if the time comes?” She asked.

“Trust me. It’ll be pretty obvious.” He said grinning like he had a great joke planned. 

“Alright, fine.” She paused. “Stiles, you know what we spoke about last night?” She touched his wrists, knowing he probably wasn’t ready for the wolves to know about that. Even though she knew it wouldn’t make a difference to them, it would just make them even more in awe of him. He nodded showing he understood what she meant.

“You promise you will not do it again?” She asked firmly, demanding that he agree he would never sacrifice himself for them.

Stiles opened his mouth to reply when all of a sudden his hands went to his head, gripping it tightly as the mirror shattered next to them and Stiles fell to his knees. His skin had gone almost grey, it was evident he was in a lot of pain. 

“Stiles!” Lydia called, going to her knees also, holding onto his arms tightly, letting him know she was here. When he opened his eyes she knew what he was about to say. It made her chest tighten in fear.

“They’re here.” He whispered to the pack surrounding them.

Scott

Scott looked at his friend who was slowly gathering himself from the floor, a hand resting on Lydias shoulder as he stood up. 

“You okay?” He asked, unable to comprehend the difference he saw in Stiles. A few minutes ago he’d looked full of energy and life. Now he looked drawn out and pale. Stiles nodded his head in reply, but he still looked shaken.

“I’m fine. Come on, we need to get to the clearing and get in position.” Stiles said pushing through the pack towards the nearest door. Scott followed him and the pack came behind, all of them looking determined. The fight was now. This would all end today. He would protect his pack, his family, with everything he had. 

They walked quickly through the preserve, Stiles leading the way with his eyes closed, his face tight in concentration as his skin slowly started to regain the unearthly glow. Suddenly Stiles held up his hand signalling them to stay still as he took another few steps forward silently.

“Come out Spark! I can tell you are near.” A voice shouted, startling Scott. He knew this must be Elizabeth. Stiles glanced back at them, motioned for them to stay put, they would attack Catherine the minute he had separated them. And then Stiles was stepping through the last few trees and entering the clearing.

Stiles

His heart was pounding, his hands were sweaty, he felt like he could throw up any second. But then he thought of his pack and he knew he could do this he had to do this. He stepped into the clearing and felt like screaming. Catherine was there, so was Elizabeth, but there was also several of Elizabeth’s pets, all frothing at the mouth and begging for the taste of blood. He hadn’t accounted for that. He thought Elizabeth would be too proud to bring her pets with her, surely she didn’t need them to defeat him? 

“Elizabeth. Can’t say it’s nice to see you again. Catherine. Never a pleasure.” Stiles said in greeting, smirking at them slightly. “And of course, how lovely you’ve brought pets. I didn’t realize I was so powerful that you needed to bring them along to defeat me.” He said, hoping that the pack would hear and know that the plan had gone to hell already. 

“Oh, they aren’t for you spark. They’re here to tear your pack apart as you watch.” Elizabeth said gleefully. “You might have made it so that I can’t hurt them, but that doesn’t mean my pets can’t. I’ll enjoy watching each of them have their throats torn out, it is only justice you see, revenge for my dear departed sister.” Elizabeth cooed. “Of course Spark, I’ll spare you. You will become my new pet and I’m sure nothing will break you sooner than watching me slaughter them all.” 

Stiles hated the joy in her voice in that statement, hated that she was planning to slaughter them all and leave him alive. It would be a slaughter now, he saw that, there was no way he could take out both witches and the pets. He’d led his pack to their deaths. He should have told them to run. He forced his breathing to calm down, if he had a panic attack now then he wouldn’t help anyone. He heard footsteps behind him and turned to see the whole pack coming into the clearing. 

“You’re not getting your hands on him.” Scott growled. “We’ll kill you all before you touch him.” Stiles grinned at Scott, his best friend, he couldn’t believe he’d ever doubted him, sure Scott had let him down sometimes, but Scott was his brother. His heart felt like it doubled in size as he looked at his pack, every one of them were family to him, he was going to protect them. 

He turned back to look at Catherine and Elizabeth and gasped in shock, hearing the echoes of other pack members as they saw what was happening too. Elizabeth realized a moment too late and that was all it took for Catherine to sink her blade into Elizabeth’s back and into her heart. There was a look of surprise frozen on Elizabeth’s face as she fell to the ground. Catherine smirked at the dead witch on the ground, licking the blood from the blade as wind began to whip through the clearing. 

“You killed her?” Stiles asked stunned. He’d seen witches kill each other before, of course he had, but never so calmly, so viciously. 

“Of course I did.” Catherine replied, her face already starting to shift. “How else would I get her power and her pets?” She said as her face settled and Stiles was staring at the face of his mother. 

There were a few gasps behind him, he imagined how hard it would be for his dad to see Claudia again, but he wasn’t surprised, he’d seen the face a thousand times before, and he knew it wasn’t her. Not really. 

“Attack!” Catherine suddenly shouted and then the pets were coming at them, the whole pack, seven of them descending on them too quickly. Lydia screamed throwing three of them backwards to the ground and then all hell broke loose, all the pack charging at them, slashing with claws that narrowly missed the pets, shots ringing out that hit their targets but didn’t even see to slow them down. But all Stiles could see was Catherine, staying out of the fight, waiting for him to come to her. 

He charged through one fight, knocking a pet backwards with a flick of his fingers, earning a shout of appreciation from Frank who had nearly been gutted. He was already throwing magic at Catherine before he’d cleared the last of the fighters, hoping to catch her by surprise but he didn’t. 

He threw spell after spell at her, narrowly avoiding the ones she cast back. The noises behind him disappeared, the wind that spun around them was all he could hear now, the rush in his ears as he used all the magic he had stored.

The clearing was lit up in a multitude of colours as spells burned the ground at his feet. He didn’t know how much time had passed before he realized he wasn’t going to win, Catherine was too powerful, with Elizabeth’s powers there was no way he was going to beat her. He had to do something soon or there would be no hope. She was taunting him, still wearing his mother’s face as she cast curses at him. He was going to fail, there was no chance he was making it out of this alive; he had to save the pack. He heard a shout of pain and turned to look at his pack, Derek was down on the ground, blood pooling around him from where claws had torn open his stomach. He reacted on instinct, knowing now that the only way to beat her would be the last resort. He felt for the pack through his protective charm and then pushed them all backwards into the trees out of the clearing. He sealed the circle of mountain ash he’d put down the night before keeping them out of the clearing. 

He knew they would be able to break it, but not quick enough. He dropped every protective spell he had on himself, allowing his tattoos to become visible. He heard Catherine gasp in shock.

“You didn’t!?” She screamed in recognition pulling the pets towards her in a feeble attempt at protection. 

Stiles didn’t reply just concentrated on the one thing he knew he had to do. The protective charm was filled with his blood, his pack would be safe as long as they had his blood, but those without his blood would be struck down, and he was going to be the conductor. 

He threw one hand up towards the sky and the other at Catherine, immediately a bolt of lightning struck him and blasted outwards. Stiles only had a moment to feel the burning hot agony and the smell of burning flesh before he lost all consciousness.

Dean

Dean was fighting dangerously against the pets, their claws were missing him by millimetres. He had a gash on his cheek that was healing slowly and he could smell the blood from others of the pack. They were losing. He could smell the ozone coming from where Stiles was fighting against Catherine, smoke coming from the ground where their spells hit. He could tell Stiles was losing too. He knew the second that Elizabeth had appeared with the pets that they stood no chance. He had failed as pack protector. He couldn’t stop this. They were all going to die.

He looked around for his brother, knowing that if he was going to die then it was going to be fighting by his brother’s side, the way it should be. He stepped forward, dodging one set of claws, putting his back against Sam, protecting his brother as best he could for as long as he could. He saw Derek go down a moment later, heard the cry of pain, saw the blood already pooling under him. Dean took a step towards Derek, wanting to be there for his friend, not wanting to leave his brother defenceless. But before he could make a decision he was been shoved backwards by an invisible force, he knew it was Stiles, the touch of magic felt like comfort and home, he felt safe despite the fact he was moving without his will, and he also knew something awful was about to happen. By the time he had stood up lightening was flying down from the sky and Lydia was screaming. 

Derek

Derek couldn’t help the cry of pain as the claws tore through his stomach. He knew they were going to lose, the fighting had become desperate in the past few minutes, the clearing was filled with the smell of magic, smoke coming from the ground, vicious claws trying to tear them apart. He stood with Lydia to his back, hearing the banshee scream over and over, knocking the pets down as often as she could. He wasn’t sure how he’d ended up fighting with her as his partner, but he couldn’t wish for a better person to die beside. She fought like a woman possessed, not only protecting him but protecting them all, managing to keep the pets at enough of a distance that none of the pack were injured yet. Derek knew it was only a matter of time.

He kept getting distracted, he knew that it was going to cost him dearly, but he couldn’t help but keep checking on the rest of the pack, check that they were all still okay. He’d already lost one pack, he couldn’t lose another. The whole pack was depending on Stiles beating Catherine and it didn’t sound like that fight was going in their favour either. He turned a moment too late and the claws tore through his stomach. He cried out in pain, almost landing on Lydia as he fell, he could smell his own blood, he knew he was done for. 

He felt himself been pushed backwards towards the trees but it was a gentle motion and Derek knew instantly it was Stiles, the touch of his magic was comforting, a solid presence, what was more is that Derek could feel his skin knitting back together. He knew that Stiles was going to do something stupid, there was no other reason why he would spare magic to heal Derek. He sat up, ready to fight again, ready to stop Stiles, protect him for as long as he could, but by the time he focused on Stiles it was too late, the smell of burning flesh hit his nostrils and Stiles was on fire.

John

He wasn’t sure how they were still fighting, he was stood near the back of the fight along with Bobby and Melissa. He took a few shots but only when he was sure that they would hit their targets. So far the pets had been kept busy and hadn’t managed to break through to them, but he could see the pack was tiring and soon they would lose. He knew they were all going to die here, he knew the pack wouldn’t be able to hold it together much longer and hey didn’t stand a chance. He looked at Stiles who was still fighting Catherine, wind was whipping around them, there was blood running down Stiles cheek from where a spell had obviously gotten too close. Stiles looked deadly and dangerous, the fact that he was fighting a witch who looked exactly like Claudia made John’s heart hurt.

He was going to lose his son, his pack, his whole family. He only prayed that Stiles would get away, or die with them. He was an awful person to wish his son dead, but he knew that if they were all killed and Stiles survived, well, Stiles wouldn’t ever recover from it. Catherine would torture him again. He would break and all of Beacon Hills would fall. He didn’t want to die, didn’t want any of them to die. But he’d rather they all died together than think of his son trapped with that monster, becoming one of these pets that they fought.

He saw Derek go down hard, knew that the end was coming and he looked at his son, wanting Stiles to be the last thing he saw. He felt something touch him, push him back towards the treeline, he knew it was Stiles doing it, could tell by the soft touch of his magic, knowing that his son was trying to protect them even now. He saw the moment when Stiles showed Catherine his tattoos, looked at the fear on her face, and really what was she afraid of? Stiles was losing, they were all losing. Stiles had only bought them another minute or two before they died. Except that Catherine was showing pure terror. John shouted out, knowing Stiles was about to do something dangerous but before he could take more than a step forward lightning was streaming through the sky hitting his son and then blasting through the clearing.

Lydia

She knew it the second she felt the touch of Stiles’ magic. She had never felt more loved and she knew it was a last ditch attempt to save them, she felt her heart breaking, she should have told him. She met his eyes for just a second as they were pushed backwards, saw the love and determination that filled his eyes and then there was lightning and everything was too bright but she still screamed, she couldn’t stop it as it was torn from her throat. 

When she looked at the clearing she could see the piles of ash where Catherine and her pets had been. They were dead. It was over. But Stiles was…God she couldn’t finish that thought, couldn’t believe it. Scott was already racing towards Stiles’ body, he was burnt, so badly burnt and she knew he was dead. She knew she’d screamed for his death. She took a few unsteady steps forward, aware of the pack around her doing the same thing, Percy helping Derek to his feet and Derek smiling at him gratefully before frowning at the body in front of them.

Lydia listened to the sobs and screams of grief that filled the clearing. Malia was sitting on the floor, her hands around her knees, claws still out as she tried to deal with the fact that Stiles was gone and this time it was for good. 

John was leaning over his son, holding onto him, begging him to come back to them, Sam was clinging onto his brother as if Dean was the only thing holding him upright. Derek was been supported by Percy but Lydia knew he would survive. Melissa was holding onto Scott who was sobbing like a child. Bobby was standing with Chris, Isaac, Jason, Liam and Frank who all looked shocked, their eyes wide with despair. Miller was stood with Leo both looking down at Stiles with disbelief. Jackson was standing next to her, tears rolling down his face. The pack was broken.

Lydia was numb. She couldn’t believe this. They were all supposed to make it out of this, Stiles wasn’t supposed to die. He wasn’t supposed to die. Tears fell unknowingly from her eyes, she didn’t realise she was crying until her vision blurred. She felt an arm around her shoulder but she couldn’t tell who it was. All she could see was Stiles. The boy who ran with wolves. Stiles who fought against witches. Stiles who had stolen her heart. Stiles who was dead.

They stood there for a few minutes until Lydia suddenly felt something burning hot against her trouser leg. She reached into her pocket and felt her fingertips brush against paper. She gasped in surprise, this was Stiles, of course he had a back-up plan; of course he would have a plan for this she knew it with every fibre of her being. She didn’t care that all eyes were on her as she opened up the paper and read his scrawled writing.

You’re my emotional tether remember? Nothing’s changed. Call me back.

She felt to the ground next to Stiles, sobbing, struggling to get the air to breathe.

“Stiles!” She called. “Stiles! Wake up! Wake up this instant!” She demanded. He couldn’t leave her a note like that, he couldn’t tell her that she would bring him back and then not come back. He couldn’t do this to her. 

“Stilinski! You listen to me right now! You get back here this instant or I am going to scream until your brain explodes okay!?” She shouted, not caring that she looked deranged. Not caring for anything other than bringing Stiles back, and she would, she would sit here until the whole world died around them if that’s what it took.

Nothing happened and Lydia felt the tears rolling down her cheeks. 

“You told me I could bring you back. Please come back.” She begged, not caring as the note was passed around the pack and they were all staring at her like she was their last hope. “Please Stiles!” She sobbed into his chest. She could feel a scream building inside her throat and she didn’t hold back, she screamed, screamed for Stiles, begged him to hear her, to come home.

It happened in an instant, one moment Stiles’ body was lying on the ground, burned almost beyond recognition, the next he was staring up at her through rapidly blinking eyes, his skin rid of all scars, whole other than a Lichtenberg scar than ran down one of his arms underneath his tattoos. 

“Geez Lyds, I can hear you okay, stop screaming.” He said so casually, as if he hadn’t just been dead. The pack were all crying with joy now, all falling to their knees in relief. Lydia didn’t care. She leaned in to Stiles and kissed him quickly. 

“Don’t you dare ever do that to me again.” She growled, so glad to see the goofy grin on Stiles’ face. 

“Erm, yeah, sure. I promise.” He replied staring at her with awe. Suddenly the whole pack was around them pulling them into a tight hug. All of them crowded around on the forest floor. Lydia had never been so happy.

Stiles

Stiles was somewhere warm, he wasn’t sure where it was, he couldn’t see anything, it was dark, but it was warm, he wasn’t scared though, he felt safe. When a figure appeared nearby it took him a moment to recognize his mum. He knew it was her though, not Catherine’s cheap impersonation. He’d never felt safe with her. 

“Is she dead?” He asked, his mum nodded in reply, tears in her eyes.

“Am I?” Stiles asked. His mum nodded again. 

“Oh. Guess that’s the way things go.” Stiles said quietly. “Couldn’t expect to get hit by lightning and survive.” 

Claudia stepped towards him. 

“If anyone could, it would be you my sweet boy.” She said stepping towards him and pulling him into a hug. 

“I’ve missed you mum.” He whispered into her shoulder.

“You’ll have to miss me for a bit longer yet Stiles.” She replied, he could only gaze at her in confusion. It took him a moment before he heard it. Lydia was screaming, he needed to get back to them. 

“Look after them Stiles. I love you.” Claudia called out as she got further and further away. 

Stiles woke up suddenly and he was looking at Lydia’s eyes who were only inches away. 

“Geez Lyds, I can hear you okay, stop screaming.” He said, hoping it came across as casual and not at all filled with relief that it had actually worked.

“Don’t you dare ever do that to me again.” Lydia growled before kissing him, and what the actual hell, Lydia Martin was kissing him, and it was optional. What the hell!? Well actually, he wasn’t going to ask that, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and all that. He hoped she planned on doing it again and it wasn’t just the relief from saving his life.

The pack was all around him, hugging him, touching him, yelling at him for been so stupid. It felt like it was finally over and when he caught sight of the piles of ash he knew it was definitely over. Although he was a little worried that he could feel the power of both Catherine and Elizabeth tingling through his veins, he guessed he had technically killed her which meant he got her powers. In a way he was grateful, he would have enough power to always protect his family now. It just meant that he now had the powers of Margaret, Catherine and Elizabeth. Although the powers were glowing happily inside of him, he could feel them and they didn’t feel like the witches they felt like pure energy and he felt protective of them too. He would use them to protect his pack with everything he had.

“How did you know it would work?” Scott was asking him as he stood slowly to his feet.

“Well, I didn’t actually. I kind of hoped it would. And when I put the protective charm on you guys I added in a little of my blood. It means I sort of feel all of you a little easier. When I heard Lydia calling I felt the pack calling to me a moment later and it wasn’t hard to find my way back.” 

“You didn’t know it would work?” Lydia was glaring at him. He grinned mischievously at her.

“But it did. So you know, no harm no foul.” 

“Stiles. I swear to god. If you ever pull anything like this again I’ll kill you myself.” Lydia warned him, the joy at having him back contradicting the anger in her tone. 

“Sure thing Lyds.” He said throwing an arm around her shoulder, feeling more like himself than he had done in years. He was surprised when Lydia learned into him and put her arm around his waist, sure that everyone would see the blush in his cheeks. 

“Let’s go home.” Stiles said quietly to the pack and they began to weave their way back to the house through the preserve, laughing, hugging and generally enjoying the time they had together.


End file.
